{"collection":"philosophy-ethics","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_49244/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_49244","id":"gutenberg_49244","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/49244","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Philosophy & Ethics","Philosophy, Spanish"],"text":"FUNDAMENTAL\n\n PHILOSOPHY.\n\n BY\n REV. JAMES BALMES.\n\n _TRANSLATED FROM THE SPANISH_\n\n BY\n HENRY F. BROWNSON, M.A.\n\n IN TWO VOLUMES.\n VOL. I.\n\n\n New York:\n D. & J. SADLIER & CO., 164 WILLIAM STREET,\n BOSTON:--128 FEDERAL STREET.\n MONTREAL:--COR. OF NOTRE DAME AND ST. FRANCIS XAVIER STS.\n 1856.\n\n\n\n Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1856,\n By D. & J. SADLIER & CO.,\n In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for\n the Southern District of New York.\n\n\n NEW YORK:\n BILLIN & BROTHER, PRINTERS, XX NORTH WILLIAM ST.\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS OF VOL. II.\n\n\n BOOK FOURTH.\n\n ON IDEAS.\n\n CHAPTER PAGE\n\n I. Cursory View of Sensism 3\n\n II. Condillac's Statue 6\n\n III. Difference between Geometrical Ideas and the\n Sensible Representations which accompany them 12\n\n IV. The Idea and the Intellectual Act 15\n\n V. Comparison of Geometrical with Non-Geometrical\n Ideas 20\n\n VI. In what the Geometrical Idea consists; and what\n are its Relations with Sensible Intuition 25\n\n VII. The Acting Intellect of the Aristotelians 29\n\n VIII. Kant and the Aristotelians 33\n\n IX. Historical View of the Value of Pure Ideas 42\n\n X. Sensible Intuition 50\n\n XI. Two Cognitions: Intuitive and Discursive 54\n\n XII. The Sensism of Kant 57\n\n XIII. Existence of Pure Intellectual Intuition 59\n\n XIV. Value of Intellectual Conceptions.--Abstraction\n made from Intellectual Intuition 62\n\n XV. Illustrations of the Value of General\n Conceptions 65\n\n XVI. Value of Principles, independently of Sensible\n Intuition 68\n\n XVII. Relations of Intuition with the rank of the\n Perceptive Being 71\n\n XVIII. Aspirations of the Human Soul 74\n\n XIX. Elements and variety of the characters of\n Sensible Representation 76\n\n XX. Intermediate Representations between Sensible\n Intuition and the Intellectual Act 81\n\n XXI. Determinate and Indeterminate Ideas 84\n\n XXII. Limits of our Intuition 88\n\n XXIII. Of the Necessity involved in Ideas 92\n\n XXIV. Existence of Universal Reason 96\n\n XXV. In what does Universal Reason consist? 99\n\n XXVI. Remarks on the Real Foundation of Pure\n Possibility 102\n\n XXVII. Individual and Intellectual Phenomena\n explained by the Universal Subsisting Reason 105\n\n XXVIII. Observations on the Relation of Language to\n Ideas 108\n\n XXIX. Origin and Character of the relation between\n Language and Ideas 112\n\n XXX. Innate Ideas 115\n\n\n BOOK FIFTH.\n\n IDEA OF BEING.\n\n I. Idea of Being 125\n\n II. Simplicity and Indeterminateness of the Idea of\n Being 127\n\n III. Substantive and Copulative Being 129\n\n IV. Being, the Object of the Understanding, is not\n the Possible, Inasmuch as Possible 134\n\n V. A Difficulty Solved 138\n\n VI. In what Sense the Idea of Being is the Form of\n the Understanding 141\n\n VII. All Science is founded in the Postulate of\n Existence 143\n\n VIII. The foundation of Pure Possibility, and the\n Condition of its Existence 147\n\n IX. Idea of Negation 150\n\n X. Identity; Distinction; Unity; Multiplicity 153\n\n XI. Origin of the Idea of Being 155\n\n XII. Distinction between Essence and Existence 161\n\n XIII. Kant's Opinion of Reality and Negation 164\n\n XIV. Recapitulation and Consequences of the Doctrine\n concerning the Idea of Being 168\n\n\n BOOK SIXTH.\n\n UNITY AND NUMBER.\n\n I. Preliminary Considerations on the Idea of Unity 175\n\n II. What is Unity? 176\n\n III. Unity and Simplicity 180\n\n IV. Origin of the Tendency of our Mind to Unity 183\n\n V. Generation of the Idea of Number 187\n\n VI. Connection of the Ideas of Number with their\n Signs 191\n\n VII. Analysis of the Idea of Number in Itself and\n its Relations with Signs 194\n\n\n BOOK SEVENTH.\n\n ON TIME.\n\n I. Importance and Difficulty of the Subject 201\n\n II. Is Time the Measure of Movement? 203\n\n III. Similarities and Differences between Time and\n Space 206\n\n IV. Definition of Time 211\n\n V. Time is Nothing Absolute 213\n\n VI. Difficulties in the explanation of Velocity 215\n\n VII. Fundamental Explanation of Succession 219\n\n VIII. What is Co-existence? 223\n\n IX. Present, Past, and Future 226\n\n X. Application of the preceding Doctrine to several\n important Questions 231\n\n XI. The Analysis of the Idea of Time confirms its\n resemblance to the Idea of Space 234\n\n XII. Relations of the Idea of Time to Experience 236\n\n XIII. Kant's Opinion 239\n\n XIV. Fundamental Explanation of the Objective Possibility\n and of the Necessity of the Idea of Time 242\n\n XV. Important Corollaries 243\n\n XVI. Pure Ideal Time and Empirical Time 245\n\n XVII. Relations of the Idea of Time and the\n Principle of Contradiction 247\n\n XVIII. Summing up 254\n\n XIX. A glance at the Ideas of Space, Number, and\n Time 257\n\n\n BOOK EIGHTH.\n\n THE INFINITE.\n\n I. Transitory View of the Actual State of\n Philosophy 263\n\n II. Importance and Anomaly of the Questions on the\n Idea of the Infinite 268\n\n III. Have we the Idea of the Infinite? 269\n\n IV. The Limit 272\n\n V. Considerations on the Application of the Idea of\n the Infinite to continuous quantities, and to\n Discrete Quantities, in so far as these last are\n expressed in Series 274\n\n VI. Origin of the Vagueness and Apparent Contradictions\n in the Application of the Idea of the Infinite 278\n\n VII. Fundamental Explanation of the Abstract Idea\n of the Infinite 281\n\n VIII. The Definition of Infinity confirmed by\n Application to Extension 285\n\n IX. Conception of an Infinite Number 289\n\n X. Conception of Infinite Extension 292\n\n XI. Possibility of Infinite Extension 294\n\n XII. Solution of Various Objections against the\n Possibility of an Infinite Extension 296\n\n XIII. Existence of Infinite Extension 302\n\n XIV. Possibility of an Actual Infinite Number 304\n\n XV. Idea of Absolutely Infinite Being 311\n\n XVI. All the Reality contained in Indeterminate\n Conceptions is affirmed of God 315\n\n XVII. All that is not contradictory in Intuitive\n Ideas is affirmed of God 317\n\n XVIII. Intelligence and the Absolutely Infinite\n Being 321\n\n XIX. Summing up 324\n\n\n BOOK NINTH.\n\n ON SUBSTANCE.\n\n I. Name and General Idea of Substance 331\n\n II. Application of the Idea of Substance to\n Corporeal Objects 333\n\n III. Definition of Corporeal Substance 338\n\n IV. Relation of Corporeal Substance to its\n Accidents 340\n\n V. Considerations on Corporeal Substance in Itself 344\n\n VI. Substantiality of the Human Me 347\n\n VII. Relation of the Proposition, I Think, to the\n Substantiality of the Me 349\n\n VIII. Remarks on the Soul's Intuition of Itself 352\n\n IX. Kant's Opinion of the Arguments proving the\n Substantiality of the Soul 355\n\n X. Kant's Opinion of the Argument which he calls\n Paralogism of Personality 366\n\n XI. Simplicity of the Soul 377\n\n XII. Kant's Opinion of the Argument proving the\n Simplicity of the Soul 381\n\n XIII. In what manner the Idea of Substance may be\n applied to God 394\n\n XIV. An important Remark, and Summary 397\n\n XV. Pantheism examined in the Order of Ideas 399\n\n XVI. Pantheism examined in the Order of External\n Facts 403\n\n XVII. Pantheism examined in the Order of Internal\n Facts 406\n\n XVIII. Fichte's Pantheistic System 409\n\n XIX. Relations of Fichte's System to the Doctrines\n of Kant 424\n\n XX. Contradiction of Pantheism to the Primary Facts\n of the Human Mind 429\n\n XXI. Rapid glances at the Principal Arguments of\n Pantheists 434\n\n\n BOOK TENTH.\n\n NECESSITY AND CAUSALITY.\n\n I. Necessity 439\n\n II. The Unconditioned 442\n\n III. Immutability of Necessary and Unconditioned\n Being 445\n\n IV. Ideas of Cause and Effect 448\n\n V. Origin of the Notion of Causality 451\n\n VI. Formula and Demonstration of the Principle of\n Causality 454\n\n VII. The Principle of Precedency 457\n\n VIII. Causality in Itself.--Insufficiency and Error\n of some Explanations 467\n\n IX. Necessary and sufficient Conditions of true\n Absolute Causality 474\n\n X. Secondary Causality 476\n\n XI. Fundamental Explanation of the Origin of the\n Obscurity of Ideas in what relates to Causality 479\n\n XII. Causality of Pure Force of the Will 483\n\n XIII. Activity 486\n\n XIV. Possibility of the Activity of Bodies 493\n\n XV. Conjectures as to the Existence of Corporeal\n Activity 496\n\n XVI. Internal Causality 500\n\n XVII. Remarks on Spontaneity 508\n\n XVIII. Final Causality;--Morality 513\n\n XIX. Various Explanations of Morality 520\n\n XX. Fundamental Explanation of the Moral Order 527\n\n XXI. A Glance at the Work 543\n\n\n\n\nBOOK FOURTH.\n\nON IDEAS.\n\nFUNDAMENTAL PHILOSOPHY.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I.\n\nCURSORY VIEW OF SENSISM.\n\n\n1. Having spoken of sensations, we come now to ideas. We must, however,\nbefore making this transition, inquire if there be in our mind ought\nelse than sensation, if all the inward phenomena which we experience be\nought else than sensations transformed.\n\nMan, when he rises from the sphere of sensations, from those phenomena\nwhich place him in relation with the external world, meets a new order\nof phenomena, of whose presence he is equally conscious. He cannot\nreflect upon sensations without being conscious of something more\nthan sensation; nor on the recollection or the inward representation\nof sensations, without discovering something distinct both from the\nrecollection and from the representation.\n\n2. According to Aristotle, there is nothing in the understanding which\nhas not first been in the senses; and the schools have for long ages\nre-echoed this thought of the philosopher: _nihil est in intellectu\nquod prius non fuerit in sensu_. The order, therefore, of human\nknowledge, is from the external to the internal. Descartes pretended\nthat we ought to invert this order, and proceed from the internal to\nthe external. Malebranche, his disciple, went farther, and was of\nopinion that the understanding, enfolded in itself, should hold only\nthe least possible intercourse with the external world. According to\nhim, no atmosphere is so fatal to intellectual health as that of the\nworld of the senses; sensations are an inexhaustible fountain of error,\nand the imagination is an enchantress only the more dangerous because\nshe has fixed her dwelling at the very portal of the intellect, which,\nwith her seductive beauty and gorgeous ornaments, she hopes to rule at\nher pleasure.\n\n3. Locke strove to rehabilitate the old Aristotelian maxim, joined,\nhowever, to the criterion of observation: besides sensation he admitted\nonly reflection, but he taught that the mind was endowed with innate\nfaculties. His disciple, Condillac, not satisfied with this, taught\nthat all the actions of our mind were simply sensations transformed:\ninstead of distinguishing with Locke two sources of our ideas, the\nsenses and reflection, he thought it more exact to admit only one, as\nwell because reflection is in its root only sensation, as because it is\nrather the channel by which ideas originating in the senses pass, than\ntheir source.\n\nJudgment, reflection, desires, and passions are in Condillac's\nestimation nothing else than sensation transformed in various modes.\nIt seemed to him, therefore, very idle to suppose the mind to have\nreceived immediately from nature the faculties with which it is\nendowed. Nature has given us organs which show us by pleasure or pain\nwhat we ought to seek or to avoid; but here she stops, and leaves to\nexperience the task of leading us to contract habits and finish the\nwork she has commenced.[1]\n\n[1] _Trait\u00e9 des Sensations._ Pr\u00e9face.\n\n4. In view of this system, in which not even natural faculties are\nconceded to the soul, and those which it does possess are considered\nas only simple effects of sensation, it is worthy of remark how soon\nits author contradicts himself; for, almost in the same breath, he\nprofesses to be an occasionalist, and pretends that the impressions of\nour organization are nothing more than the occasion of our sensations.\nCan there be a natural faculty more inexplicable than that of placing\none's self in relation with objects which do not produce sensations,\nbut are only the occasion of their production. If such a faculty as\nthis be conceded to the mind, why may we not admit others? Is not that\na very singular natural faculty which perceives by means of causes\noperating only occasionally? In this case, is there not attributed\nto the mind a natural faculty of producing sensations on occasion of\norganic impressions, or is it not supposed to be an immediate relation\nwith another and superior being which produces them? Why may not this\ninternal activity, this receptivity, apply itself to ideas? Why must\nnot other innate faculties be conceded to the mind? And why does he\npretend not to suppose them, when his whole argument is based upon the\nsupposition of their existence?\n\nHostile as he professes to be to hypotheses and systems, Condillac\nis eminently addicted both to systems and hypotheses. He imagines\nan origin and a nature of ideas of his own, and to them he insists\nthat every thing must conform. To give a better idea of Condillac's\nopinions, and to combat them at once successfully and loyally, we will\nbriefly analyze the groundwork of his _Treatise on Sensations_, the\nbook on which he most prides himself, and in which he flatters himself\nto have given to his doctrine its highest degree of clearness and\ncertainty.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\nCONDILLAC'S STATUE.\n\n\n5. Condillac supposes a statue, which he animates successively with\neach of the senses: then beginning with the sense of smell, he says;\n\"So long as our statue is limited to the sense of smell, its knowledge\ncannot go beyond odors; it can neither have any idea of extension, of\nspace, or of any thing beyond itself, nor of other sensations, such\nas color, sound, taste.\"[2] If, according to the conditions of the\nsupposition, all activity and every faculty be denied to this statue,\nit certainly can have no other idea or sensation, and it may be added\nthat even its sensation of smell will be for it no idea.\n\n[2] Chap. I.\n\n\"If we present it a rose,\" continues Condillac, \"to us it will be a\nstatue which smells a rose; but for itself it will be only the smell\nof a rose. It will then be the smell of the rose, the pink, the\njasmine, or the violet, according to the objects which operate upon\nits organ; in a word, with respect to it, these odors are only its\nown modifications and manners of being, and it cannot believe itself\nany thing else, since these are the only sensations of which it is\nsusceptible.\"\n\n6. It is very obvious that at the first step, the statue must take\na great leap. Close upon the apparent simplicity of the sensible\nphenomenon, _reflection_, one of those acts which suppose the intellect\nalready well developed, is introduced. First the statue believes\nitself something; it believes itself the odor; next consciousness\nof itself in relation to the impression it has just received, is\nattributed to it; then it is made to form a kind of judgment, whereby\nit affirms the identity of itself with the sensation. This, however,\nis impossible, unless we have something besides bare sensation; but we\nneither have nor can have at this stage any thing beyond this purely\npassive impression, an isolated phenomenon, upon which there can be\nno reflection of any kind whatever; and the statue can have no other\nreflection of itself than this sensation, which in the reflective\norder has no title to be so called. Condillac's hypothesis rigorously\napplied, presents only a phenomenon leading to nothing; and the moment\nhe leaves sensation to develop it, he admits an activity in the mind\ndistinct and very different from sensation, which destroys his whole\nsystem.\n\nThe statue confined to the sensation of smell will never believe itself\nsmell; such a belief is a judgment, and supposes comparison, no trace\nof which can be discovered in the sensible phenomenon, considered in\nall its purity, as Condillac requires in his hypothesis. He begins his\nanalytical investigations by introducing conditions which he at the\nsame time supposes to be eliminated. He undertakes to explain every\nthing by sensation alone, and his first step is to amalgamate sensation\nwith operations of a very different order.\n\n7. Condillac calls the capacity of feeling, when applied to the\nimpression received, attention. So if there be but one sensation, there\ncan be but one attention. If various sensations succeeding each other\nleave some trace in the memory of the statue, the attention will, when\na new sensation is presented, be divided between the present and the\npast. The attention directed at one and the same time to two sensations\nbecomes comparison. Similarities and differences are perceived by\ncomparison, and this perception is a judgment. All this is done with\nsensations alone; therefore attention, memory, comparison, and judgment\nare nothing but sensations transformed. In appearance nothing clearer,\nmore simple, or more ingenuous; in reality nothing more confused or\nfalse.\n\n8. First of all, this definition of attention is not exact. The\ncapacity of feeling, by the very fact of being in exercise, is applied\nto the impression. It does not feel when the sensitive faculty is not\nin exercise, and this is not in exercise except when applied to the\nimpression. Consequently, attention would be nothing but the act of\nfeeling; all sensation would be attention, and all attention sensation;\na meaning which no one ever yet gave to these words.\n\n9. Attention is the application of the mind to something; and this\napplication supposes the exercise of an activity concentrated upon its\nobject. Properly speaking, when the mind holds itself entirely passive,\nit is not attentive; and with respect to sensations it is attentive\nwhen by a reflex act we know that we feel. Without this cognition there\ncan be no attention, but only sensation more or less active, according\nto the degree in which it affects our sensibility. If Condillac means\nto call the more vivid sensation attention, the word is improperly\nused; for it ordinarily happens that they who feel with the greatest\nvividness are precisely those who are distinguished for their want of\nattention. Sensation is the affection of a passive faculty; attention\nis the exercise of an activity; and hence it is that brutes do not\nparticipate of it except inasmuch as they possess a principle of\nactivity to direct their sensitive faculties to a determinate object.\n\n10. Is the perception of the difference of the smell of the rose and\nthat of the pink a sensation? If we are answered that it is not, we\ninfer that the judgment is not the sensation transformed; for it is\nnot even a sensation. If we are told that it is one sensation, we\nthen observe that if it be either that of the rose or that of the\npink, it follows that with one alone of these sensations we shall have\ncomparative perception, which is absurd. If we are answered that it is\nboth together, we must either interpret this expression rigorously, and\nthen we shall have a sensation which will at once be that of the pink\nand that of the rose, the one remaining distinct from the other so as\nto satisfy the conditions of comparison; or we must interpret it so\nas to mean that the two sensations are united; in which case we gain\nnothing, for the difficulty will be to show how co-existence produces\ncomparison, and judgment, or the perception of the difference.\n\nThe sensation of the pink is only that of the pink, and that of the\nrose only that of the rose. The instant you attempt to compare them,\nyou suppose in the mind an act by which it perceives the difference;\nand if you attribute to it any thing more than pure sensation, you add\na faculty distinct from sensation, namely that of comparing sensations,\nand appreciating their similarities and differences.\n\n11. This comparison, this intellectual force, which calls the two\nextremes into a common arena, without confounding them, discovers the\npoints in which they are alike or unlike each other, and, as it were,\ncomes in and decides between them, is distinct from the sensation; it\nis the effect of an activity of a different order, and its development\nmust depend on sensations as exciting causes, as a condition _sine\nqua non_; but this is all it has to do with sensations themselves; it\nis essentially distinct from them, and cannot be confounded with them\nwithout destroying the idea of comparison, and rendering it impossible.\n\nNo judgment is possible without the ideas of identity or similarity,\nand these ideas are not sensations. Sensations are particular facts\nwhich never leave their own sphere, nor can be applied from one thing\nto another. The ideas of similarity and identity have something in\ncommon applicable to many facts.\n\n12. What next happens to a being limited to the faculty of experiencing\nvarious sensations? It will receive without comparing them. It is\ncertain that when it feels in one manner it will not feel in another,\nthat one sensation is not another; but this sensitive being will take\nno notice of the variety. Sensations will succeed sensations, but will\nnot be compared with each other. Even supposing them to be remembered,\nthe memory of them will be nothing more than a less intense repetition\nof the same sensations. If it be admitted that this sensitive\nbeing compares them, and perceives their relations of identity or\ndistinction, of similarity or difference, a series of reflex acts are\nadmitted which are not sensations.\n\n13. Nor can the memory, properly so called, of sensations, be explained\nby them alone; and here again Condillac is wrong. The statue may\nrecollect to-day the sensation of the smell of the rose which it\nreceived yesterday, and this recollection may exist in two ways:\nfirst, by the internal reproduction of the sensation without any\nexternal cause, or relation to time past, and consequently without\nany relation to the prior existence of a similar sensation; and then\nthis recollection is not for the statue a recollection properly so\ncalled, but only a sensation more or less vivid: secondly, by an\ninternal reproduction with relation to the existence of the same or\nanother similar sensation at a preceding time, in which recollection\nessentially consists; and here there is something more than sensation;\nhere are the ideas of succession, time, priority, and identity, or\nsimilarity, all distinct and separable from sensation.\n\nTwo entirely distinct sensations may be referred to the same time in\nthe memory; and then the time will be identical, and the sensations\ndistinct. The sensation may exist without any recollection of the\ntime it before existed, or even without any recollection of having\never existed; consequently, sensation involves no relation of time;\nthey are distinct and very different matters, and Condillac deceives\nhimself when he undertakes to explain the memory of sensations by mere\nsensations.\n\n14. These reflections utterly refute Condillac's system. Either he\nadmits something besides sensation or he does not; if he does, he\nviolates his own original supposition; if he does not, he cannot\nexplain any abstract idea, nor even the sensitive memory: he will\ntherefore be obliged to admit with Locke reflection upon sensations,\nand for the same reason, other faculties of the soul.\n\n15. It is easy to comprehend why certain philosophers have maintained\nthat all our ideas come from the senses, if we understand them to\nmean that sensations awaken our internal activity, and, so to speak,\nsupply the intellect with materials: but it is not so easy to see\nhow it can be advanced as a certain, clear, and exceedingly simple\ntruth that there is in our mind nothing but these materials, these\nsensations. We have only to fix our attention for a moment upon what\npasses within us to discover many phenomena distinct from sensation,\nand various faculties which have nothing to do with sensation. If\nCondillac had been satisfied with maintaining that these faculties\nneeded sensation as a kind of excitement in order to be developed, he\nwould have advanced nothing contrary to sound philosophy: but for him\nto pretend that all that is excited and all that is developed is only\nthe principle which excites, and to insist that this is confirmed by\nactual observation, is openly to contradict observation itself, and\nto render it absolutely impossible for him to make the least progress\nin the explanation of intellectual activity, unless he abandons the\nsupposition upon which his whole system is founded. Nevertheless,\nthe author of the _Treatise on Sensations_ seems to be perfectly\nsatisfied with his system: the actual impression is the sensation;\nthe recollection of the sensation is the intellectual idea. If this\nis not sound, it is at least deceptive: with the appearance of nice\nobservation he stops at the surface of things, and does not fatigue the\npupil. Every thing comes from sensation; but this is because Condillac\nmakes his statue talk as he pleases, without paying the least attention\nto his hypothesis of sensation alone.\n\n16. This system, by reason of its philosophical meagerness, is fatal to\nall moral ideas. What becomes of morality if there are no ideas, except\nsensations? What becomes of duty if every thing is reduced to sensible\nnecessity, to pleasure or pain? And what becomes of God, and of all\nman's relations to God?\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\nDIFFERENCE BETWEEN GEOMETRICAL IDEAS AND THE SENSIBLE REPRESENTATIONS\nWHICH ACCOMPANY THEM.\n\n\n17. Sensible representations always accompany our intellectual ideas.\nThis is why in reflecting upon the latter we are apt to confound them\nwith the former. We say, in reflecting upon them, not in making use of\nthem. We none of us, have any trouble in making use of ideas according\nto circumstances; the error lies in the reflex, not in the direct act.\nIt will be well to bear this last observation in mind.\n\n18. It is next to impossible for the geometrician to meditate upon the\ntriangle without revolving in his imagination, the image of a triangle\nas he has seen it drawn a thousand times; and he will, for this reason,\nbe disposed to believe that the idea of the triangle is nothing else\nthan this sensible representation. Were it thus, Condillac's assertion\nthat the idea is only the recollection of the sensation would be\nverified in the idea of the triangle. In fact, this representation is\nthe sensation repeated: the only difference between the two affections\nof the mind is that the actual sensation is caused by the actual\npresence of its object, wherefore it is more fixed and vivid. To prove\nthat the difference is not essential, but consists only in degree, it\nis sufficient to observe, that if the imaginary representation attain a\nhigh degree of vividness we cannot distinguish it from sensation, as it\nhappens to the visionary, and as we have all experienced in our dreams.\n\n19. By noticing the following facts, we shall readily perceive how\ndifferent the idea of the triangle is from its imaginary representation.\n\nI. The idea of the triangle is one, and is common to all triangles of\nevery size and kind; the representation of it is multiple, and varies\nin size and form.\n\nII. When we reason upon the properties of the triangle, we proceed\nfrom a fixed and necessary idea; the representation changes at every\ninstant, not so, however, the unity of the idea.\n\nIII. The idea of a triangle of any kind in particular is clear\nand evident; we see its properties in the clearest manner; the\nrepresentation on the contrary is vague and confused, thus it is\ndifficult to distinguish a right-angled from an acute-angled triangle,\nor even a slightly inclined obtuse-angled triangle. The idea corrects\nthese errors or rather abstracts them; it makes use of the imaginary\nfigure only as an auxiliary, in the same manner as we give our\ndemonstrations when we draw figures upon paper, abstracting their\nexactness or inexactness, often when we know that they are not exact,\nwhich they cannot always be.\n\nIV. The idea of the triangle is the same to the man born blind and\nto him who has sight; and the proof of this is that both, in their\narguments and geometrical uses, develop it in precisely the same\nmanner. The representation is different, for us it is a picture,\nwhich it cannot be for the blind man. When he meditates upon the\ntriangle he neither has, nor can have, in his imagination, the same\nsensible representation as we, since he wants all that can relate to\nthe sensation of sight. If the blind man experiences any accompanying\nrepresentation of the idea, he can have received it only from the\nsense of touch; and in the case of large triangles, the three sides of\nwhich cannot be touched at the same time, the representation must be a\nsuccessive series of sensations of touch, just as the recollection of a\npiece of music is essentially a successive representation. With us the\nrepresentation of the triangle is almost always simultaneous, excepting\nthe case of exceedingly large triangles, much larger than we usually\nsee, in which case, especially when we are unaccustomed to consider\nsuch, it seems necessary to go on extending the lines successively.\n\n20. What has been said of the triangle, the simplest of all figures,\nmay with still greater reason be said of all others, many of which\ncannot be distinctly represented by the imagination, as we see in\nmany-sided figures; and even the circle, which for facility of\nrepresentation rivals the triangle, we cannot so perfectly imagine as\nto distinguish it from an ellipse whose foci are only at a trifling\ndistance from each other.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\nTHE IDEA AND THE INTELLECTUAL ACT.\n\n\n21. Having shown that geometrical ideas are not sensible\nrepresentations, we can safely conclude that no kind of ideas are.\nCould there be a difficulty concerning any, it would be concerning\ngeometrical ideas, for the objects of the latter can be sensibly\nrepresented. When objects have no figure, they cannot be perceived by\nany of the senses; to speak in such a case of sensible representations\nis to fall into a contradiction.\n\n22. These considerations draw a dividing line between the intellect\nand the imagination; a line which all the scholastics drew, which\nDescartes and Malebranche respected and made still more prominent,\nbut which Locke began to efface, and Condillac entirely obliterated.\nAll the scholastics recognized this line; but they, like many others,\nused a language which, unless well understood, was of a character\nto obscure it. They called every idea an image of the object, and\nexplained the act of the understanding as if there were a kind of form\nin the understanding which expressed the object, just as a picture\npresented to the eyes offers them the image of the thing pictured. This\nlanguage arose from the continual comparison which is very naturally\nmade between seeing and understanding. When objects are not present we\nmake use of their pictures, and thus, since objects themselves cannot\nbe present to our understanding, we conceive an interior form which\nperforms the part of a picture. On the other hand, sensible things\nare the only ones which are strictly susceptible of representation;\nwe never discover within ourselves the form in which the objects\nare portrayed, except in the case of imaginary representations; and\ntherefore it was rash to call this an idea, and every idea an imaginary\nrepresentation, in which the whole system of Condillac consists.\n\n23. St. Thomas calls the representations of the imagination\n_phantasmata_, and says that so long as the soul is united to the body\nwe cannot understand except _per conversionem ad phantasmata_; that is,\nunless the representation of the imagination, which serves as material\nfor the formation of the idea, and assists in clearing it up, and\nheightening its colors, precedes and accompanies the intellectual act.\nExperience teaches that whenever we understand, certain sensible forms\nrelative to the object which occupies us, exist in our imagination.\nNow, they are the images of the figure and color of the object, if it\nhave any; now, the images of those with which they are compared, or the\nwords which denote them in the language we habitually speak. Thus, even\nwhen thinking of God, the very act by which we affirm that he is most\npure spirit, offers a kind of representation to the imagination under a\nsensible form. When we speak of eternity, we see the _Ancient of days_,\nas we have often seen him represented in our churches; when we speak of\nthe infinite intelligence, we imagine perhaps a sea of light; infinite\nmercy, we picture to ourselves as a pitying likeness; justice, with\nangry countenance. To force ourselves to form some conception of the\ncreation, we fancy a spring whence light and life both flow, and thus\nalso we endeavor to render immensity sensible by imagining unlimited\nextension.\n\nThe imagination always accompanies the idea, but is not itself the\nidea; and we perceive the evident and unimpeachable proof of the\ndistinction between the two, if we ask ourselves, while in the very\nact of imagining a sea of light, an old man, an angry or placid\ncountenance, a fountain or extension, if God is any one of these, or\nany thing resembling them; for, we very promptly answer, no, that this\nwould be impossible. All this demonstrates the existence of an idea\nwhich has no connection with these representations, but essentially\nexcludes what is contained in them.\n\n24. What we have said of the idea of God, may be said of many other\nideas. Rarely do we understand any thing into which the idea of\nrelation does not enter as an indispensable element. How then is\nrelation represented? In the imagination, in a thousand different\nmanners; as the point of contact of two objects; as the link which\nunites them. But is relation any one of these? No! When we inquire in\nwhat it does consist, is there the slightest shadow of doubt that it is\nno one of these? Certainly not.\n\n25. It is an error to call every idea an image, if you mean to consider\nideas as something distinct from the intellectual act, which places\nitself before the understanding when it is in the exercise of its\nfunctions. An image is that which represents, as a likeness: and how, I\nask, do we know that this representation or likeness exists? And how do\nwe know that in order to reason we need an internal form, which is, as\nit were, a picture of the object? What is a picture beyond the sensible\norder? There are, it is true, similarities in the intellectual order,\nbut not in the sense in which we perceive them in the material order.\nI think; so does my neighbor: here is a similarity, since the same\nthing is found in both one and the other, identical in species, but not\nin number. But this similarity is of a different order from that of\nsensible similarities.\n\n26. When we understand, we know that which is in the object understood;\nbut whether this be understood by a simple act of the intellect, or\na medium be required to represent the similarity, we do not know. We\nunderstand the thing, not the idea; and it is as difficult to say\nhow the intellect perceives without the idea, as it is to say how the\nsupposed representation refers to its object. How does our idea refer\nto an object? If by itself, then by itself alone, since it is purely\ninternal, it refers to the external, and requires no intermediary to\nplace the subject in relation with external objects. What it does,\nthe intellectual act of itself alone can also do. If we perceive the\nrelation of the idea with the object by means of another idea, this\nintermediate idea presents the same difficulty as the preceding idea;\nand so at last we must come to a case in which there is a transition\nfrom the intellect to the object without any intermediary.\n\nIf we see an object which is the image of another not known, we shall\nsee the object in itself, but we shall not know that it has the\nrelation of image, unless informed that it has: we shall know its\nreality, but not its representation. The same will happen in ideas\nwhich are images; these, therefore, do not at all explain how the\ntransition from the internal act to the object is made; for this would\nrequire them to do for the understanding that which we find them unable\nto do for themselves.\n\n27. There is something mysterious in the intellectual act, which men\nseek to explain in a thousand different ways, by rendering sensible\nwhat they inwardly experience. Hence so many metaphorical expressions,\nuseful only so long as they serve merely to call and fix the attention,\nand give an account of the phenomenon, but hurtful to science if they\ngo beyond these limits, if it be forgotten that they are metaphors, and\nare never to be confounded with the reality.\n\nBy intelligence we see what there is in things, we experience the act\nof perception; but when we reflect upon it we grope in the dark, as if\nthere were a dense cloud about the very source of light, preventing us\nfrom seeing it with clearness. Thus the firmament is at times flooded\nwith the light of the sun, although the sun is encircled with clouds\nand hidden from our view, so that we cannot even determine its position\nupon the horizon.\n\n28. One cause of obscurity in this matter is the very effort to\nclear it up. The act of the understanding is, in its objective part,\nexceedingly luminous, since by it we see what there is in objects;\nbut in its subjective nature, or in itself, it is an internal fact,\nsimple indeed, but incapable of being explained by words. This is not\na peculiarity of the intellectual act, it is common to all internal\nphenomena. What is it to see, to taste, to hear? What is a sensation,\nor feeling of any kind whatsoever? It is an inward phenomenon, of which\nwe are conscious, but which we cannot decompose into parts; nor can we\nexplain with words the combination of these parts. A word is enough to\nindicate the phenomenon, but this word has no meaning for him who does\nnot now experience this phenomenon, or has not oat some former time\nexperienced it. No possible explanations would ever enable a man born\nblind to understand color, or a deaf man sound.\n\nThe act of understanding belongs to this class; it is a simple fact\nwhich we can point out, but not explain. An explanation supposes\nvarious notions, the combination of which may be expressed by language;\nin the intellectual act there are none of these. When we have said,\nI think, or, I understand, we have said all. This simplicity is not\ndestroyed by objective multiplicity; the act by which we compare two or\nmore objects is just as simple as the act by which we perceive a single\nobject. If one act be not enough, more will follow; and finally one act\nwill unite or sum them all up; but it will not be a composite act.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V.\n\nCOMPARISON OF GEOMETRICAL WITH NON-GEOMETRICAL IDEAS.\n\n\n29. The idea is a very different thing from the sensible\nrepresentation, but it has certain necessary relations with it which\nit will be well to examine. When we say _necessary_, we speak only\nof the manner in which our mind, in its actual state, understands,\nabstracting the intelligence of other spirits, and even that of the\nhuman mind when subject to other conditions than those imposed by its\npresent union with the body. So soon as we quit the sphere in which\nour experience operates, we must be very cautious how we lay down\ngeneral propositions, and take care not to extend to all intelligences\nqualities which are possibly peculiar to our own, and which, even\nwith respect to it, will perhaps be entirely changed in another life.\nHaving made these previous observations, which will be found of great\nutility to mark the limits of things there is danger of confounding,\nwe now proceed to examine the relations of our ideas with sensible\nrepresentations.\n\n30. A classification of our ideas into geometrical and non-geometrical\nnaturally occurs when we fix our attention upon the difference of\nobjects to which our ideas may refer. The former embrace the whole\nsensible world so far as it can be perceived in the representation\nof space; the latter include every kind of being, whether sensible\nor not, and suppose a primitive element which is the representation\nof extension. In their divisions and subdivisions the latter present\nsimply the idea of extension, limited and combined in different ways;\nbut they offer nothing in relation to the representation of space, and\neven when they refer to it, they only consider it inasmuch as numbered\nby the various parts into which it may be divided. Hence the line which\nin mathematics separates geometry from universal arithmetic; the former\nis founded upon the idea of extension, whereas the latter considers\nonly numbers, whether determinate, as in arithmetic properly so called,\nor indeterminate, as in algebra.\n\n31. Here we have to note the superiority of non-geometrical to\ngeometrical ideas,--a superiority plainly visible in the two branches\nof mathematics, universal arithmetic and geometry. Arithmetic never\nrequires the aid of geometry, but geometry at every step needs that\nof arithmetic. Arithmetic and algebra may both be studied from their\nsimplest elementary notions to their highest complications without\never once involving the idea of extension, and consequently without\nmaking use of one single geometrical idea. Even infinitesimal calculus,\nin a manner originating in geometrical considerations, has been\nemancipated from them and formed into a science perfectly independent\nof the idea of extension. On the contrary, geometry cannot take a\nsingle step without the aid of arithmetic. The comparison of angles\nis a fundamental point in the science of geometry, but it cannot be\nmade except by measuring them; and their measure is an arc of the\ncircumference divided into a certain number of degrees, which must\nbe counted; and thus we come to the idea of number, the operation of\ncounting, that is, into the field of arithmetic.\n\nThe very proof by superposition, notwithstanding its eminently\ngeometrical character, stands in need of numeration, inasmuch as\nthe superposition is repeated. We do not require the idea of number\nto demonstrate by means of superposition the equality of two arcs\nperfectly equal; but in order to appreciate the relation of their\nquantity we compare two unequal arcs and follow the method of placing\nthe less upon the greater several times, _we count_, we make use of\nthe idea of _number_, and find we have entered upon the ground of\narithmetic. We discover the equality of two radii of a circle, when\nwe compare them by superposition, abstracting the idea of number; but\nif we would know the relation of the diameter to the radii, we employ\nthe idea of _two_; we say the diameter is twice the radius, and again\nenter the domains of arithmetic. As we proceed in the combination of\ngeometrical ideas, we make use of more and more arithmetical ideas.\nThus the idea of the number _three_ necessarily enters into the\ntriangle; and the _sum of three_ and the _sum of two_ both enter into\none of its most essential properties; the _sum_ of the _three_ angles\nof a triangle is equal to _two_ right angles.\n\n32. The idea of number cannot be replaced by the sensible intuition\nof the figure whose properties and relations are under discussion. In\nmany cases this intuition is impossible, as, for example, in many-sided\nfigures. We have little difficulty in representing to our imagination\na triangle, or even a quadrilateral figure, but the difficulty is\ngreater in the case of the pentagon, and greater still in the hexagon\nand heptagon; and when the figure attains a great number of sides, one\nafter another escapes the sensible intuition, until it becomes utterly\nimpossible to appreciate it by mere intuition. Who can distinctly\nimagine a thousand-sided figure?\n\n33. This superiority of non-geometrical over geometrical ideas is very\nremarkable, since it shows that the sphere of intellectual activity\nexpands in proportion as it rises above sensible intuition. Extension,\nas we have before seen,[3] serves as the basis not only of geometry,\nbut also of the natural sciences, inasmuch as it represents in a\nsensible manner the intensity of certain phenomena; but it can by no\nmeans enable us to penetrate their inmost nature, and guide us from\nthat which appears to that which is. This and other subordinate ideas\nare, so to speak, inert, and from them springs no vital principle to\nfecundate our understanding, and still less the reality; they are\nan unfathomable depth in which our intellectual activity may toil,\nperfectly certain of never finding any thing in it which we ourselves\nhave not placed there; they are a lifeless object which lends itself\nto all imaginable combinations without ever being capable of producing\nany thing, or of containing any thing not given to it. The naturalists\nin considering inertness as a property of matter, have perhaps regarded\nmore than they are aware the idea of extension, which presents the\ninertness most completely.\n\n[3] Book III.\n\n34. The ideas of number, cause, and substance abound in results,\nand are applicable to all branches of science. We can scarcely\nspeak without expressing them; it might almost be said that they\nare constituent elements of intelligence, since without them it\nvanishes like a passing illusion. They extend to every thing, apply\nto every thing, and are necessary, whenever objects are offered to\nthe intellectual activity, in order that the intellect can perceive\nand combine them. It makes no difference whether the objects be\nsensible or insensible, whether there be question of our intelligence\nor of others subject to different laws; whenever we conceive the act\nof understanding we conceive also these primitive ideas as elements\nindispensable to the realization of the intellectual act. They exist\nand are combined independently of the existence, and even of the\npossibility, of the sensible world; and they would also exist in a\nworld of pure intelligences, even if the sensible universe were nothing\nbut an illusion or an absurd chimera.\n\nOn the other hand, take geometrical ideas and remove them from the\nsensible sphere; and all that you base upon them will be only unmeaning\nwords. The ideas of substance, cause, and relation do not flow from\ngeometrical ideas; if we regard them alone, we see an immense field\nextending into regions of unbounded space; but the coldness and\nsilence of death reign there. If we would introduce beings, life, and\nmotion into this field we must seek them elsewhere; we must use other\nideas, and combine them, so that life, activity, and motion may result\nfrom their combination, in order that geometrical ideas may contain\nsomething besides this inert, immovable, and vacant mass, such as we\nimagine the regions of space to be beyond the confines of the world.\n\n35. Geometrical ideas, properly so called, as distinguished from\nsensible representations, are not simple ideas, since they necessarily\ninvolve the ideas of relation and number. Geometry cannot advance one\nstep without comparing them; and this comparison almost always takes\nplace by the intervention of the idea of number. Hence it is that\ngeometrical ideas, apparently so unlike purely arithmetical ideas,\nare really identical with them so far as their form or purely ideal\ncharacter is concerned; and are only distinguishable from them when\nthey refer to a determinate matter, such as extension as presented in\nits sensible representation. The inferiority therefore of geometrical\nideas already mentioned, only refers to their matter, or to their\nsensible representations, which are presupposed to be an indispensable\nelement.\n\n36. Another consequence of this doctrine, is the unity of the pure\nunderstanding, and its distinction from the sensitive faculties.\nFor, the very fact that the same ideas apply alike to sensible and\nto insensible objects, with no other difference than that arising\nfrom the diversity of the matter perceived, proves that above the\nsensitive faculties there is another faculty with an activity of\nits own, and elements distinct from sensible representations. This\nis the centre where all intellectual perceptions unite, and where\nthat intrinsic force resides, which, although excited by sensible\nrepresentations, develops itself by its own power, makes itself master\nof these impressions, and converts them, so to speak, by a mysterious\nassimilation, into its own substance.\n\n37. Here we repeat what we have already remarked, concerning the\nprofound ideological meaning involved in the _acting intellect_ of the\nAristotelians, so ridiculed because not understood. But we leave this\npoint and proceed to the careful analysis of geometrical ideas, to\ndiscover, if possible, a glimpse of some ray of light amid the profound\ndarkness which envelops the nature and origin of our ideas.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI.\n\nIN WHAT THE GEOMETRICAL IDEA CONSISTS; AND WHAT ARE ITS RELATIONS WITH\nSENSIBLE INTUITION.\n\n\n38. In the preceding chapters we have distinguished between pure\nideas and sensible representations, and we seem to have sufficiently\ndemonstrated the difference between them, although we limited ourselves\nto the geometrical order. But we have not explained the idea in itself;\nwe have said what it is not, but not what it is; and although we have\nshown the impossibility of explaining simple ideas, and the necessity\nof our being satisfied with indicating them, we do not wish to be\nconfined to this observation, which may seem to elude the difficulty\nrather than to solve it. Only after due investigations, by which we\nshall be better able to understand what is meant by _designate_, will\nit be allowable to confine ourselves to their designation, for it will\nthen be seen that we have not eluded the difficulty. Let us begin with\ngeometrical ideas.\n\n39. Is a geometrical idea, without any accompanying or preceding\nsensible representation, possible? It would seem that we can have\nnone. What meaning has the idea of the triangle if not referred to\nlines forming angles and enclosing a space? And what do lines, angles,\nand space mean, without sensible intuition? A line is a series of\npoints, but it represents nothing determinate, nothing susceptible\nof geometrical combinations, except it be referred to that sensible\nintuition in which the point appears to us as an element generating by\nits movement that continuity which we call a line. What would become\nof angles without the real or possible representation of these lines?\nWhat would become of the area of the triangle were we to abstract a\nspace, a surface which is or may be represented? We might challenge all\nthe ideologists in the world to assign any sense to the words used in\ngeometry if absolute abstraction be made all sensible representation.\n\n40. Geometrical ideas, such as we conceive them, have a necessary\nrelation to sensible intuition. In order the better to understand\nthis relation, let us define the triangle to be the figure enclosed\nby three right lines. This definition involves the following ideas:\nspace, enclosed, three, lines. With a space and three lines which\ndo not enclose the figure, we have no triangle; the word _enclosed_\ncannot therefore be omitted. If you enclose a space, but with more than\nthree lines, the result will not be a triangle; and if you take less\nthan three lines you can have no enclosure. The idea of _three_ is\ntherefore necessary to the idea of the triangle. It is useless to add\nthat the idea of _line_ is as necessary as the others, since without\nit no triangle can be conceived. Different and distinct ideas, it is\ntrue, are here combined, but they are all referred to one sensible\nintuition, although in an indeterminate manner. We here abstract\nthe longness or shortness of the lines and their forming larger or\nsmaller angles. But we cannot thus abstract in the case of determinate\nintuitions; for every determinate intuition has its own peculiar\nqualities; otherwise it would not be a determinate representation, and\nconsequently not sensible as it is supposed to be. But although the\nreference be to an indeterminate intuition, it always supposes some\nintuition either actual or possible, since otherwise the material of\ncombination would be wanting to the understanding; and the four ideas\ninvolved in the triangle would be empty and unmeaning forms, and their\ncombination extravagant if not absurd.\n\n41. The idea then of the triangle seems to be simply the intellectual\nperception of the relation between the lines presented to the\nsensible intuition, considered in all its generality, without any\ndetermining circumstance limiting it to particular cases or species.\nThis explanation admits nothing intermediate between the sensible\nrepresentation and the intellectual act, which, exercising its activity\nupon the materials presented by sensible intuition, perceives their\nrelations, and this pure and simple perception constitutes the idea.\n\n42. We shall understand this better if, instead of the triangle, we\ntake a many-sided figure, such as a polygon of a million sides, which\ncannot be clearly presented to the sensible intuition. The idea of\nthis figure is as simple as that of the triangle; we perceive it by\nan intellectual act, express it by a single word, and can calculate\nits properties and relations with the same exactness and certainty as\nwe can those of the triangle, although it is absolutely impossible to\nrepresent it distinctly to our imagination. When we reflect upon what\nit offers to the intellectual act, we notice the same elements as in\nthe idea of the triangle, with this single difference that the number\nthree is changed into _million_. We can have no sensible representation\nof all these lines; but the understanding has sufficiently combined the\nidea of line with that of number to perceive its object, a million.\nHere, then, we perceive the same elements as in the triangle; but\nit is upon these elements, considered in general without any other\ndetermination than results from the fixed number, that the perceptive\nact operates.\n\n43. The idea of a polygon in general, abstracting the number of its\nsides, offers in its sensible representation, nothing determinate to\nthe mind, nothing but the abstract idea of a right line, the general\nidea of an enclosed space. The relation which these objects of the\nintellectual, act even in the midst of their indeterminateness,\nhave amongst themselves, is perceived by the intellectual act. This\nperceptive act is the idea. Every thing beyond this is useless, and not\nonly useless but affirmed without reason.\n\n44. It will perhaps be asked how the understanding can perceive\nwhat passes without it, since sensible intuition is a function of a\nfaculty distinct from the understanding? In reply, we shall abstract\nthe questions discussed in the schools concerning the powers of the\nmind, and be content to remark that whether these be really distinct\namong themselves, or only one power exercising its activity upon\ndifferent objects and in different manners, it will be alike necessary\nto admit a consciousness common to all the faculties. The soul which\nfeels, thinks, recollects, desires, is one and the same, and is\nalike conscious of all these acts. Whatever be the nature of the\nfaculties by which she performs these acts, she it is that performs\nthem and knows that she performs them. There is then in the soul a\nsingle consciousness, the common centre where dwells the inward\nsense of every activity exercised, and of every affection received,\nto whatever order they may belong. However, supposing the case the\nmost unfavorable to our theory, that the faculty to which sensible\nintuition corresponds, is really distinct from the faculty which\nperceives the relations of the objects offered by sensible intuition;\ndoes it therefore follow that the understanding cannot without\nsomething intermediate exercise its activity upon objects presented\nby this intuition? Certainly not. The act of pure understanding and\nthat of sensible intuition, are indeed different, but they meet in\nconsciousness, as in a common field; and there they come in contact,\nthe one exercising its perceptive activity upon the material supplied\nby the other.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII.\n\nTHE ACTING INTELLECT OF THE ARISTOTELIANS.\n\n\n45. I shall now briefly explain the scholastic theory of the manner in\nwhich the understanding knows material things. This explanation will\nshow how much reason we had to assert that this doctrine of the schools\ncan be ridiculed only when not understood, and that, whatever its\nfoundation, it cannot be denied to possess an ideological importance.\n\n46. The schoolmen began with this principle of Aristotle, _nihil est in\nintellectu quod prius non fuerit in sensu_; \"There is nothing in the\nunderstanding which has not previously been in the senses.\" Conformably\nto this principle they maintained that before the soul received\nimpressions from the senses, the understanding was like a clean table\nupon which nothing had been written: _sicut tabula rasa in qua nihil\nest scriptum_. According to this doctrine all our knowledge flows from\nthe senses; and at first sight the system of the schools might seem to\nbe very similar to, if not identical with, that of Condillac. Both seek\nthe origin of our cognitions in sensation; both teach that there is no\nidea in our understanding prior to sensation. But the two systems are,\nnotwithstanding these apparent similarities, very different, and even\ndiametrically opposed.\n\n47. The fundamental principle of Condillac's theory is, that sensation\nis the sole operation of the mind; and that whatever exists in our\nmind is nothing more than the sensation transformed in various ways.\nPrior to sensible impressions, this philosopher admits no faculty;\nthe development of sensation is all that fecundates the soul, not by\nexciting its faculties, but by generating them. The school of the\nAristotelians took, indeed, sensations for the starting-point, but did\nnot consider them as producing intelligence; on the contrary, they were\nvery careful to mark the limits of the sensitive faculties, and of the\nunderstanding in which they recognized a peculiar and innate activity\naltogether superior to the faculties of the sensible order. We have\nonly to open any one of the innumerable works of this school, to meet\non every page such words as _intellectual force_, _light of reason_,\n_participation in the divine light_, and others in the same style, in\nwhich a primary activity of our mind, not communicated by sensations,\nbut prior to them all, is expressly recognized. The acting intellect,\n_intellectus agens_, which figures so much in this ideological system,\nwas a standing condemnation of the system of transformed sensation\nadvocated by Condillac.\n\n48. The Aristotelians, governed by their favorite idea of explaining\nevery thing by matter and form, modified the meaning of these words\naccording to the exigencies of the objects to which they applied them,\nand considered the faculties of the soul as a class of forces incapable\nof acting unless united to a form which brought them into action.\nThus they explained sensations by species, or forms, which placed the\nsensitive power in act. The imagination was a force which, although it\nsometimes rose above the external senses, contained nothing but species\nof the sensible order, subject also to the necessary conditions of this\nfaculty. These species were the forms which placed the imaginative\nforce in act, and without which it could not exercise its functions.\nThe Aristotelians, after having thus explained the phenomena of the\nexternal senses, and of the imagination, undertook to explain those\nof the intellectual order; and in this they displayed their genius by\ninventing an auxiliary which they named the _acting intellect_. The\nnecessity of making two principles in seeming contradiction accord, was\nthe reason of this invention.\n\nOn the one hand the Aristotelians held that our cognitions all flowed\nfrom the senses; and on the other they asserted that there was an\nessential and intrinsic difference between feeling and understanding.\nHaving drawn this dividing line, the sensitive and intellectual orders\nwere separated; but as it was on the other side requisite to establish\nsome communication between these two orders, it was necessary for them,\nif they wished to save the principle, that all our ideas come from the\nsenses, to discover some point where the two channels might unite.\n\nThe cognition of material things could not be denied to the pure\nunderstanding; but as this was not an innate cognition and could not\nbe acquired by it, they were under the necessity of establishing\nsome communication by means of which the understanding might\ncomprehend objects without soiling its purity by sensible species. The\nimagination contained them, already purified from the grossness of the\nexternal senses; in it they existed more aerial, purer, and less remote\nfrom immateriality; but they were still at an immense distance from the\nintellectual order, and had themselves to support the burden of those\nmaterial conditions which never allowed them to attain the altitude\nnecessary to be put in communication with the pure understanding. In\norder to know, the understanding requires forms to unite themselves to\nit intimately; and although it be true that it discerned them far down\nin the lower regions of the sensitive faculties, yet it could descend\nto them without compromising its dignity, and denying its own nature.\nIn this conflict they required a mediator; it was the acting intellect.\nWe will now proceed to explain the attributes of this faculty.\n\n49. The sensible species contained in the imagination, the true picture\nof the external world, were not of themselves intelligible, because\nenveloped, not with matter properly so called, but with material\nforms, to which the intellectual act could only indirectly refer. If\nthey could have discovered a faculty capable of rendering intelligible\nwhat is not intelligible, this difficult problem would have been\nsatisfactorily solved; as in this case the mysterious transformer by\napplying its activity to the sensible species, would elevate them from\nthe category of imaginary species, _phantasmata_, to that of pure ideas\nor sensible species, and thus make them serve the intellectual act.\nThis faculty is the acting intellect; a real magician which possesses\nthe wonderful secret of stripping sensible species of their material\nconditions, of smoothing every roughness which prevents them from\ncoming in contact with the pure understanding, and transforms the gross\nfood of the sensitive faculties into the purest ambrosia, fit to be\nserved at the repast of spirits.\n\n50. This invention merits to be called ingenious rather than\nextravagant, poetical rather than ridiculous. But its most remarkable\nfeature is, that it involves a profound philosophical sense, as well\nbecause it marks an ideological fact of the highest importance, as\nbecause it indicates the true way of explaining the phenomena of\nintelligence in their relations to the sensible world. This remarkable\nfact is the difference, even with respect to material objects, between\nsensible representations and pure ideas. The indication of the true\nway consists in presenting the intellectual activity as operating upon\nsensible species, and converting them into food for the mind.\n\nLet us leave the poetical part to the explanation of the schools, and\nsee if what it involves be worth as much, to say the least, as what\nKant advanced when, combating sensism, he distinguished between the\npure understanding and sensible intuitions.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII.\n\nKANT AND THE ARISTOTELIANS.\n\n\n51. Lest I be accused of levity in comparing Kant's philosophy with\nthat of the schools, in what relates to the distinction between the\nsensitive and intellectual faculties, I shall give a rapid examination\nof this philosopher's doctrine so far as the present matter is\nconcerned.\n\nSince the German philosopher is in the habit of expressing himself with\ngreat obscurity, and of using an obsolete language liable to different\ninterpretations, I shall insert his own words, so that the reader may\njudge for himself, and rectify any inaccuracies into which I may fall,\nin comparing Kant's doctrine with that of the Aristotelians.\n\n\"In whatever manner,\" says Kant, \"and by whatever means a cognition\nmay be referred to objects, that which makes the cognition refer\nimmediately to things, and to which all thought is a means, is\n_intuition_. This intuition exists only inasmuch as the object is given\nus, which is not possible, at least for us men, except so far as it\naffects the mind in some way. The capacity of receiving impressions\nby the manner in which objects affect us is called _sensibility_. By\nmeans of sensibility objects are given to us: it alone supplies us with\n_intuitions_: but they are thought by the understanding, and from it\narise _conceptions_. All thought must ultimately be referred, either\ndirectly, or indirectly by means of certain signs, to intuitions, and\nconsequently to sensibility, since no object can be given to us in any\nother.\n\n\"The action of an object upon the representative faculty, so far as we\nare affected by it, is _sensation_. The intuition, which is referred to\nan object by means of sensation, is called _empirical_. The immediate\nobject of an empirical intuition is called a _phenomenon_.\"[4]\n\n[4] _Transcendental \u00c6sthetics_, \u00a7 1.\n\nThe distinction between the faculty of feeling and that of conceiving\nis fundamental in Kant's system: and we see that he gives it a hasty\nexposition before beginning his investigations on _\u00c6sthetics_ or the\ntheory of sensibility. Further on, in treating of the operations of the\nunderstanding, he has more fully developed his doctrine: and by the\nemphasis he puts upon it, it would seem evident that he regarded it as\nof high importance, and perhaps as a discovery of a region entirely\nunknown to the philosophical world. Thus he speaks of it in his\n_Transcendental Logic_:\n\n\"Our knowledge proceeds from two intellectual sources; the first\nis the capacity of receiving representations, (the receptivity of\nimpressions,) the second is the faculty of knowing an object by these\nrepresentations, (the spontaneity of conceptions.) By the former the\nobject is given to us; by the latter, it is _thought_ in relation to\nthis representation (as mere determination of the mind.) Intuition\nand conception constitute the elements of all our knowledge; so that\nneither conceptions without an intuition in some manner corresponding\nto them, nor an intuition without conceptions, can give knowledge.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\"We call _sensibility_ the capacity (receptivity) of our mind to\nreceive representations, so far as affected in any way whatever:\non the contrary, the faculty of producing representations, or the\n_spontaneity_ of knowledge, is called _understanding_. Our nature is\nsuch that there can be no intuition not _sensible_, that is to say,\nwhich only comprehends the manner in which we are affected by objects.\nThe _understanding_ is the faculty of _thinking_ the object of sensible\nintuition. Neither of these properties of the soul is preferable to\nthe other. Without sensibility no object could be given to us; without\nthe understanding none could be thought. Thoughts without contents are\nempty; intuitions without conceptions are blind. It is, then, just\nas necessary to make conceptions sensible,--that is, to give them an\nobject in intuition, as to make intuitions intelligible, by subjecting\nthem to conceptions. These two faculties or capacities cannot\ninterchange their functions. The understanding can perceive nothing,[5]\nand the senses can think nothing. Knowledge results only from their\nunion. Their attributes, therefore, ought not to be confounded; on the\ncontrary, there is every reason to distinguish them, and to separate\nthem with great care. We distinguish then the science of the laws of\nsensibility in general, that is to say, _\u00c6sthetics_, from the science\nof the laws of the understanding in general, that is, from _Logic_.\"[6]\n\n[5] He speaks of intuitive perception, not of perception in general.\n\n[6] _Transcendental Logic._ Introduction.\n\nMark well the meaning of this doctrine. Two facts are established;\nsensible intuition, and the conception of it; consequently the\nexistence of two faculties, sensibility, and the understanding, is\naffirmed. To the first correspond sensible representations; to the\nlatter conceptions. These two faculties, though different, are closely\ninterlinked; and they are mutually necessary in order to produce\ncognitions. But how do they give each other that mutual aid they stand\nin need of?\n\n\"The understanding,\" Kant elsewhere says, \"has been thus far defined\nonly negatively, as a not-sensible faculty of knowing.\" But as we can\nhave no intuition independently of sensibility, it follows that the\nunderstanding is not a faculty of intuition. Excepting intuition, there\nremains no way of knowing other than by conceptions; wherefore we infer\nthat the knowledge of every intellect, at least every human intellect,\nis a knowledge by conceptions; not intuitive, but discursive. All\nintuitions, as sensible, rest upon affections, and consequently, all\nconceptions upon functions. I understand by functions, the unity of\naction necessary to arrange different representations under one common\nrepresentation. Conceptions, then, are grounded on the spontaneity of\nthought, as sensible intuitions on the receptivity of impressions. The\nunderstanding can make no use of these conceptions except to judge by\nmeans of them, and as intuition is the only representation which has\nan immediate object, no conception can ever be immediately referred\nto an object, but only to some other representation of this object,\nwhether this be an intuition, or even a conception. _Judgment_ is the\nmediate cognition of an object, and consequently the representation of\na representation of the object. In every judgment there is a conception\napplicable to many things, and under this plurality it comprises also\na given representation, immediately referable to the object. Thus, in\nthe judgment: _all bodies are divisible_; the conception of _divisible_\nis common to different conceptions, among which that of body is the\none it here particularly refers to. But this conception of body\nrelates to certain phenomena we have in view; these objects are then\nmediately represented by the conception of divisibility. All judgments\nare functions of unity in our representations, since instead of one\nimmediate representation, there comes in another more elevated, which\nincludes the first and many others, and conduces to the cognition of\nthe object; and a great number of possible cognitions are reduced to\none alone. But we may reduce all the operations of the understanding\nto judgment; so that the understanding in general may be represented\nas _a faculty of judging_; because, from what has been said, it is\nthe faculty of thinking. Thought is cognition by conceptions; but\nconceptions, as predicates of possible judgments, may be referred to\nany representation whatever of an object, however indeterminate. Thus\nthe conception of body signifies something, for example, a metal, which\nmay be known by this conception. It is then a conception only because\nit contains in itself other representations by means of which it may be\nreferred to objects. It is then the attribute of a possible judgment,\nfor instance, of this: _every metal is a body_.[7]\n\n[7] _Transc. Log. Transc. Anal._ Book I., Chap. I., Sec. I.\n\n52. There are in this doctrine of Kant, two things to be distinguished:\nfirst, the facts upon which it is based; and secondly, the manner in\nwhich he examines and applies them, and the consequences he deduces\nfrom them.\n\nWe detect at once a radical difference, as far as the observation\nof ideological facts is concerned, between Kant's system and that\nof Condillac. While the latter discovers in the mind no fact but\nsensation, no immediate faculty more noble than that of feeling, the\nformer upholds as a fundamental principle the distinction between\nsensibility and the understanding. And here the German triumphs over\nthe French philosopher, for in his support stand both observation and\nexperience. But this triumph over sensism had already been obtained\nby many philosophers, the scholastics in particular. With Kant and\nCondillac they admitted that all our cognitions came from the senses;\nbut they had also noted what Kant afterwards saw, but Condillac did not\ndiscover that sensations by themselves alone could never suffice to\nexplain all the phenomena of our soul, and that, besides the sensitive\nfaculty, it was necessary to admit another very different, called\nunderstanding.\n\nKant regarded sensations as materials furnished to the understanding,\nwhich it combined in various ways, and reduced to conceptions.\n\"Thoughts without contents,\" he said, \"are empty; intuitions\nwithout conceptions are blind. It is then just as necessary to make\nconceptions sensible, that is, to give them an object in intuition, as\nto make intuitions intelligible by subjecting them to conceptions.\"\nWho does not perceive in this passage, the _acting intellect_ of\nthe Aristotelians, although expressed in other words? Substitute\n_sensible species_ for _sensible intuition_, _intelligible species_\nfor _conception_ and we recognize a doctrine very like that of the\nscholastics. Let us see. Kant says: to enable us to acquire knowledge,\nthe action of the senses, or sensible experience is necessary. The\nscholastics said: there is nothing in the understanding which has not\npreviously been in the senses: _nihil est in intellectu quod prius non\nfuerit in sensu_.\n\nKant says: sensible intuitions of themselves are blind. The scholastics\nsaid: sensible species, or those of the imagination, also called\n_phantasmata_, are not intelligible.\n\nKant says: it is necessary to make conceptions sensible by giving\nthem an object in intuition. The scholastics said: it is impossible\nto understand, either by acquiring science, or by using that already\nacquired, unless the understanding directs itself to sensible species,\n\"_sine conversione ad phantasmata_.\"\n\nKant says: it is indispensable to render intuitions intelligible by\nsubjecting them to conceptions. The scholastics said: it is necessary\nto make sensible species intelligible in order that they may be the\nobject of the understanding.\n\nKant says: we judge by means of conceptions; and that judgment is the\nmediate cognition of an object, and consequently its representation.\nThe scholastics said: we know objects by means of an intelligible\nspecies, which is derived from the sensible species, and is its\nintelligible representation.\n\nKant says, that in every judgment there is a conception applicable\nto many things, and that under this plurality it comprises also a\ngiven representation which is referred immediately to its object. The\nscholastics said, that the intelligible species was applicable to many\nthings, because universal; that, when separated from a sensible and\nparticular species, it abstracts from all material and _individuating_\nconditions, and consequently embraces all individual objects in one\ncommon representation.\n\nKant uses the words _conception_, and _to conceive_, to denote\nthe intellectual act, form, or whatever it may be, by which the\nunderstanding, making use of sensible intuitions, combines the\nmaterials offered by sensibility conformably to the laws of the\nintellectual order. The scholastics likewise taught that the\nintelligible species, called also species _impressed_, fecundated the\nunderstanding by producing in it an intellectual conception, whence\nresulted the _word_, internal locution, or species _expressed_, which\nthey also styled _conception_.\n\nKant says, that the cognition of human intelligence is a cognition by\nconceptions, not intuitive, but discursive and general, and that out\nof the sphere of sensibility there is for us no true intuition. The\nscholastics said: our understanding, in this life, has a necessary\nrelation to the nature of material things, and for this reason it\ncannot _primo et per se_, know immaterial substances: hence it happens\nthat we know them perfectly only by certain comparisons with material\nthings, and chiefly by way of removal, _per viam remotionis_, in a\nnegative way.\n\n53. The sample we have just given is exceedingly interesting, since\nit enables us to appreciate as they merit the points of similarity in\nthese two systems, which occupy a prominent place in the history of\nideology,--a similarity which has not always hitherto been sufficiently\nnoticed, although apparent upon the simple perusal of the German\nphilosopher. Nor is this extraordinary: the study of the scholastics\nis exceedingly difficult; one must accommodate one's self to the\nlanguage, the style, the opinions, and the prejudices of their epoch,\nand travel over much useless ground to collect a little pure ore. Note\nwell, however, that I do not pretend to discover the \"_Critic of Pure\nReason_\" in the works of the scholastics, I would only mark a fact but\nlittle known; it is that whatever is good, fundamental, and conclusive\nagainst the sensism of Condillac, in the German philosopher's system,\nhad been said ages before by the scholastics.\n\nAre we hence to infer that Kant took his doctrine from these authors?\nWe cannot say; but we believe it may, with some reason, be asserted,\nthat possibly the German philosopher, a man of vast reading, most\nretentive memory, and very laborious, may have received certain\ninspirations, reminiscences of which glimmer through his doctrines.\nA writer is not a plagiarist, although he make ideas his own which\nhave originated with others. But it is often true that man imagines he\ncreates, when he only recollects.\n\n54. Although the German philosopher agrees with the scholastics in\nthe observation of the primitive faculties of our mind, he differs\nfrom them in their application; and whilst they go on preparing a\nphilosophical dogmatism, he marches towards a despairing skepticism.\nNothing that all the most eminent philosophers have regarded as\nindisputable, can stand in the eyes of the German philosopher. True,\nhe has distinguished the sensible from the intelligible order; he\nhas recognized two primitive faculties in our soul; sensibility and\nthe understanding; he has indicated the line which divides them,\nand carefully remarked that it should never be effaced; but, on the\nother hand, he has reduced the sensible world to a collection of pure\nphenomena, and explains space in such a way as to render it extremely\ndifficult to avoid the idealism of Berkeley. He has also, so to\nspeak, walled in the understanding by preventing all communication\nwith it, excepting by sensible experience, and has resolved all the\nelements that meet in it into empty forms, which lead to nothing when\nthere is question of applying them to the not-sensible, and which can\nteach us nothing concerning the great ontological, psychological, and\ncosmological problems which have been the object of the meditations of\nthe profoundest metaphysicians, who, to resolve them, have published a\nvast amount of sublime doctrines, just cause of a noble pride in the\nhuman mind which knows the dignity of its nature, vindicates its lofty\norigin, and discerns from afar the immensity of its destiny.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX.\n\nHISTORICAL VIEW OF THE VALUE OF PURE IDEAS.\n\n\n55. Now that we have shown the points of similarity between Kant's\nsystem and that of the scholastics, we propose to note their\ndifferences chiefly in what concerns the application of these\ndoctrines. To give an idea of the gravity and transcendentalism of\nthese differences, we have only to remark the discrepancy of their\nresults. The Aristotelians built upon their principles a whole system\nof metaphysical science, which they considered the noblest of sciences,\nand which, like a rich and brilliant light, fecundates and directs\nall others; whereas Kant, starting with the same facts, destroys\nmetaphysical science by taking from it all power to know objects in\nthemselves.\n\n56. We here find Kant in opposition not only to the scholastics,\nproperly so called, but also to all the most eminent metaphysicians who\nhad preceded him. On the side of the scholastics in this matter may be\ncited Plato, Aristotle, Saint Augustine, Saint Anselm, Saint Thomas,\nDescartes, Malebranche, Fenelon, and Leibnitz.\n\n57. No one can deny the transcendency of these questions, if he be\nnot totally ignorant how vital it is to the human mind to know if a\nscience superior to the purely sensible order be possible, whereby man\nmay extend his activity beyond the phenomena offered by matter. These\nquestions are exceedingly profound, and must not be lightly treated.\nThe difficulty and the great abstruseness of the objects treated, the\nimportance, the transcendency of the consequences to which they lead,\naccording to the road followed, demand that no labor whatever should be\nspared to penetrate these matters. It is easy to assure one's self that\nupon these questions depends the conservation of sound ideas of God and\nof the human mind; man's most important and lofty considerations.\n\nTo give this matter a thorough examination, let us go back to the\norigin of the divergence of these philosophical opinions, and let us\ninvestigate the reason why, starting with the same facts, they arrive\nat contradictory results. This requires a clear exposition of the\nopposite doctrines.\n\n58. All philosophers agree in admitting the fact of sensibility;\nconcerning it there can be no doubt; it is a phenomenon attested by\nconsciousness in so palpable a manner, that not even skeptics could\never deny the subjective reality of the appearance, however much they\ncalled in question its objective reality. Idealists, when they deny the\nexistence of bodies, do not deny their phenomenal appearance, their\nappearance to the mental eye under a sensible form. Sensibility then,\nand the phenomena it exhibits, have in all ages been primary data in\nideological and psychological problems; there may be a discrepancy with\nrespect to the nature and consequences of these data, but there can be\nnone as to their existence.\n\n59. The history of ideological science shows us two schools; one of\nwhich admits nothing but sensation, and explains all the affections and\noperations of the mind by the transformation of the senses; while the\nother admits primitive facts distinct from sensation; other faculties\nthan that of feeling, and recognizes in the mind a line dividing the\nsensible from the intellectual order.\n\n60. This latter school is divided into two others; one of which regards\nthe sensible order as not only distinct, but also separate from the\nintellectual order, and in some sense at war with it; and it therefore\nmaintains that the intellectual can receive nothing from the sensible\norder, except malign exhortations which either mislead it, or enervate\nits activity. Hence the system of innate ideas in all its purity; hence\nthe metaphysics of an intellectual order entirely exempt from sensible\nimpressions, metaphysics which, cultivated by eminent geniuses, has\nin modern times been professed by the author of the _Investigation\nof Truth_, with sublime exaggeration. The other ramification of the\nschool also admits the pure intellectual order, but does not hold it\nto be contaminated by being brought into communication with sensible\nphenomena; on the contrary, it is rather inclined to believe that the\nproblems of human intelligence, such as it exists in this life, cannot\nbe resolved without fixing the mind upon the aforesaid communication.\n\n61. Experience teaches that this communication exists, conformably\nto a law of the human mind, and that to contend against the law is\nto struggle against a truth attested by consciousness: to attempt to\ndestroy it would be a rash undertaking, a kind of mental suicide.\nFor this reason, the school of which we have just spoken, accepts\nthe facts, such as internal experience presents them, and endeavors\nto explain them by indicating the points where the sensible and\nintellectual orders may come into communication without being destroyed\nor confounded.\n\n62. The school that admits the existence of the two orders, the\nsensible and the intellectual, and at the same time admits the\npossibility and the reality of their reciprocal communication and\ninfluence, has, for its fundamental principle, that the origin of\nall cognition is in the senses, these being the exciting causes of\nintellectual activity, and a kind of laborers who supply it with\nmaterials, which it then combines in the manner necessary to raise the\nscientifical structure.\n\n63. Thus far, Kant and the scholastics agree; but here they separate at\na point of the greatest importance, and the result is that they pass\non to conflicting consequences. The scholastics believed that there\nwere in the understanding true ideas having true objects, and that\nthey might discuss them, independently of the sensible order, with\nperfect security. They even admitted the principle that there can be\nnothing in the understanding which was not previously in the senses;\nbut pretended, nevertheless, that there really was something in the\nunderstanding, which might conduce to the knowledge of the truth of\nimmaterial, as well as of material things in themselves. The ideas of\nthe purely intellectual order originate in the senses as movers of the\nintellectual activity; but this activity, by means of abstraction and\nother operations, forms to itself ideas of its own, by whose aid it may\ngo beyond the sensible order in its search for truth.\n\n64. In their explanation of the purely intellectual order,\nmetaphysicians, both scholastics and anti-scholastics agree, so far as\nthere is question of giving a real objective value to ideas, and of\nmaking them a sure means of discovering truth independently of sensible\nphenomena. However much these schools disagree as to the origin of\nideas, they agree in all that relates to their reality and value.\n\n65. Kant, at the same time that he admits the principle of the\nscholastics, that all our cognitions come from the senses, and\nrecognizes with them the necessity of acknowledging a purely\nintellectual order, a series of conceptions different from sensible\nintuition, maintains that these conceptions are not pure cognitions,\nbut empty forms, which of themselves mean nothing, teach the mind\nnothing, and cannot, in the least, aid us to know the reality of\nthings. These conceptions mean nothing unless filled, so to speak, with\nsensible intuitions. If these intuitions are wanting, they correspond\nto nothing, and can be of none but a purely logical use; that is to\nsay, the understanding will think upon and combine them, without,\nindeed, falling into contradiction, but also without ever coming to any\nconclusion.\n\n\"That the understanding,\" Kant says, \"can never make a transcendental,\nbut only an empirical use, either of its _a priori_ principles, or\nof its conceptions, is a principle which, if known with conviction,\nleads to the most important consequences. The transcendental use of a\nconception in any principle, consists in referring it to things, _in\ngeneral, and in themselves_; whilst the empirical use is in referring\nthe conception to phenomena alone, that is, to the objects of a\npossible experience, by which we may easily see that this latter use is\nthe only one that can stand. To every conception is necessary, first\nof all, a logical form of a conception in general, of the thought:\nand secondly, the possibility of subjecting to it an object, to which\nit may refer; but without this object it wants all sense, it contains\nnothing, although it may involve the logical function necessary to\nform a conception by means of certain data. The object cannot be given\nto a conception except in intuition; and although pure intuition may\nbe _a priori_ possible before the object, it cannot, however, receive\nits object, and consequently its objective value, otherwise than by\nthe empirical intuition of which it is the form. All conceptions and\nwith them all principles, although they be possible _a priori_, do,\nnotwithstanding, refer to empirical intuitions, that is, to data of\npossible experience. _Without this they have no objective value; they\nare nothing but a mere play, whether of the imagination or of the\nunderstanding_, with the respective representations of the one or the\nother faculty.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\"That the same is the case with all the categories and principles\nformed from them, is apparent from this, that we cannot really define\na single one of them; that is to say, we cannot render the possibility\nof their object intelligible without attending to the conditions\nof sensibility, and consequently to the form of the appearances;\nconditions to which these categories must be confined as to their sole\nobjects. If this condition be taken away, all meaning, that is, all\nrelation to the object is destroyed, and by no example can we be made\nto conceive what is the proper meaning of these conceptions.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\"If no account be made of all the conditions of sensibility which\ndenote them (he is speaking of the categories) as conceptions of a\npossible empirical use, if they be taken to be conceptions of things\nin general, and consequently, of transcendental use, nothing remains\nto be done, so far as they are concerned, but to preserve the logical\nfunctions in judgments, as the condition of the possibility of the\nthings themselves, without being able to show in what case, their\napplication and their object, and consequently they themselves, may, in\nthe pure understanding, and without the intervention of sensibility,\nhave a meaning and an objective value.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\"It incontestably follows from what has been said, that pure\nconceptions of the understanding can _never have a transcendental\nuse_, but only an empirical use; and that the principles of the pure\nunderstanding do not refer to the objects of the senses, except when\nthe senses are in relation with the general conditions of a possible\nexperience; _but never to things in general_, without relation to the\nway in which we may perceive them.\"[8]\n\n[8] _Transcendental Logic._ Book II., Chap. III.\n\n66. Thus Kant destroys all metaphysical science, and, involved in its\ndeplorable ruins, perish the most fundamental, most precious, and\nmost sacred ideas of the human mind. According to him, transcendental\nanalysis makes us see that the understanding can never pass the limits\nof sensibility, the only limits within which objects are given to us\nin intuition. These principles which were regarded as eternal pillars\nof the scientific edifice sink into empty forms, into words without\nmeaning, so soon as they rise from the sphere of sensibility.\n\nOntology, with its transcendental doctrines, avails not in the eyes\nof the German philosopher to explain the nature and origin of things.\n\"These principles,\" he says, \"are simply principles of the exposition\nof phenomena; and the _proud name of an ontology_ which pretends to\ngive an _a priori_, synthetic cognition of things, in a systematic\ndoctrine, for example, _the principle of causality_, ought to be\nreplaced by the modest denomination of simple _analysis of the pure\nunderstanding_.\"\n\n67. It would be hard to find a more noxious doctrine. What is left\nto the human mind when all means of rising from the sensible sphere\nare taken away? To what is our understanding reduced, if its most\nfundamental ideas, and its noblest principles can teach nothing\nconcerning the nature of things? If the corporeal world is for us\nnothing but a collection of sensible phenomena, beyond which we\ncan know nothing, our cognitions have nothing real, they are all\npurely subjective; the soul lives on illusions, and vanishes with\nits imaginary creations, to which there is nothing to correspond in\nreality. Space is but a subjective form; time is but a subjective form;\npure ideas are empty conceptions, and all in us is subjective. We\nknow nothing of objects, we are totally ignorant of what is; we know\nonly what _appears_. This is pure skepticism; assuredly it was not\nnecessary to consume so much time in analytical investigations to get\nthus far. The doctrine of Kant presents no extravagance so outrageous,\nno error so hideous, as the works of Fichte, Schelling, and Hegel; but\nit contains the germ of the greatest extravagance, and of the most\nfatal errors. He has made a philosophical revolution, which some have\nincautiously deemed a progress; but doubtless they did not detect the\nskepticism it contains, which is the more dangerous, the more it is\nenveloped in analytical forms.\n\n68. Notwithstanding the importance justly attached to the refutation of\nthe German philosopher's errors, I do not deem it necessary to combat\nhis doctrines step by step; this system of refutation labors under the\nserious objection that it gives little satisfaction to the reader, who\nseems to see one edifice torn down, but not replaced by another. I\nconsider it more useful carefully to examine questions as they arise in\nthe order of their subjects, to establish my opinion as best I can, and\nthere to refute Kant's errors as I find them obstructing the march of\ntruth. It is ordinarily very easy to say what a thing is not; but it is\nnot so easy to say what it is; and it is not proper that the advocates\nof sound doctrine should be charged with impugning false doctrines,\nand not caring to expose their own. We believe that in these matters\nsound philosophy may be presented to the light of the day struggling\nagainst error, and that it ought not to rest satisfied with being the\ninstrument of war to overthrow its adversary, but that it should\naspire to found a noble and enduring edifice upon the very site the\nother occupied.\n\nThe minds of men are not satisfied with simple refutations; they desire\nto have a doctrine substituted in the place of the one impugned.\nWhoever impugns, denies; and the understanding is not satisfied with\nnegations; it wants affirmation, for it cannot live without positive\ntruth.\n\nWe have permitted ourselves this brief digression, which is indeed far\nfrom being useless; for at the sight of the transcendency of the German\nphilosopher's errors I have recollected the necessity of careful,\nassiduous, and profound labor to oppose this deluge of errors which\nthreatens to inundate the whole field of truth; and we could not do\nless than insist upon this point, and observe that it is not enough to\ntear down, but that it is also necessary to build up. Refutations will\nsoon come; but let positive doctrines abound. It is not enough to cover\nthe long line of frontiers where error makes its attacks, with light\nand active troops which may fall upon the enemy; it is necessary to\nfound colonies, foci of cultivation and civilization, who will defend\nthe country, at the same time that they make it flourish and prosper.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X.\n\nSENSIBLE INTUITION.\n\n\n69. Intuition, properly so called, consists in the act of the soul by\nwhich it perceives an object that effects it: this the signification of\nthe Latin word derived from the verb _intueri_, to see a thing which is\npresent, indicates.\n\n70. Intuition belongs only to perceptive powers, to those by which\nthe subject affected distinguishes between its affection and the\nobject causing it. We do not pretend to say that this must be a reflex\ndistinction, but simply that the internal act must refer to an object.\nIf we suppose a being to experience various affections, but to neither\nrefer them to any object, nor reflect upon them itself; this being can\nnever with propriety be said to have true intuition, for intuition\nseems to involve the exercise of an activity occupied with a present\nobject. The object of intuition need not always be an external being;\nit may be an affection or action of the soul made objective by a reflex\nact.\n\n71. The sensations which are with the greatest propriety called\nintuitive, are those of sight and touch; for, since it is impossible\nfor us, when we perceive extension, to regard it as a purely subjective\nfact, the acts of seeing and feeling necessarily involve relation\nto an object. The other senses, although they may have a certain\nrelation to extension, do not perceive it directly, so that were they\nto stand alone, they would partake more of the affective than of the\nintuitive; that is, the soul would be affected by the sensations, but\nwould be under no necessity of referring them to external objects.\nIf reflection made upon these sensations come to teach, as in effect\nit would teach that their cause is a being distinct from those that\nexperience them, there would be no true intuition; not for the senses,\nbecause they would remain foreign to complex combinations; nor for the\nunderstanding, because it would then know the cause of the sensations,\nnot by intuition, but by discursion.\n\n72. We infer from this, that not every sensation is an intuition;\nand that the imaginary reproductions of past sensations, or the\nimaginary production of possible sensations, although repeatedly styled\nintuitions, are, since they do not refer to an object, unworthy of the\nname. We ought, nevertheless, to observe that the phenomena of purely\ninternal sensibility do, perhaps, owe to the habit of reflection their\nnon-reference to objects. Reflection perceives the difference of\ntime, the more or less vividness of sensations, their greater or less\nconstant connection, and also other circumstances; and it is enabled\nby these to distinguish between representations which do really refer\nto an object, such as external sensations, and those that have only a\npast or possible object, such as purely internal representations. Thus\nexperience teaches us that the purely internal sensibility, wholly\nabandoned to itself, transfers whatever is presented to it to the\nexternal world, without the aid of reflection, and converts imaginary\nappearances into realities. This is verified in sleep, or even in our\nwaking hours, when by some cerebral inversion the sensibility works by\nitself alone, and entirely free of reflection.\n\n73. The reason why the sensibility left to itself, renders all its\nimpressions objective, is to be looked for in the fact, that being a\nnon-reflective faculty, it cannot distinguish between a purely internal\naffection, and one coming from without. Since comparison, however\ninconsiderable it may be, always implies reflection, sensibility does\nnot compare. Hence it happens that when the subject does nothing\nbut feel, it cannot appreciate the differences of sensations, by\ncalculating the degrees of their vividness, nor ever perceive the\nexistence or want of order and constancy in their connection.\n\nThe faculty of feeling is perfectly blind to all but its determinate\nobject; whatever it does not discover in this so far as it is its\nobject, does in no manner exist for it. We can now see why, when left\nto itself, it will render its impressions objective, and believe itself\nintuitive by converting simple appearances into realities.\n\n74. It is worthy of notice, that of the sensitive faculties, some\nwould always be intuitive, that is, would always refer to an external\nobject, if reflection did not accompany them; whilst others would never\nbe intuitive, not even if separated from reflection, or unaccompanied\nby those which are by their nature intuitive. To the former class\nbelong the representative faculties, properly so called, that is, those\nwhich affect the sensitive subject by presenting to it a form, the real\nor apparent image of an object. Such are those of sight and of touch,\nwhich can neither exist nor be conceived without this representation.\nOther sensations, on the contrary, offer no form to the sensitive\nsubject; they are simple affections of the subject, although they\nproceed from an external cause; if we refer them to objects, this we do\nby reflection; and when this warns us that we have in attributing to\nthe object not only the principle of causality, but also the sensation\nin itself, carried the reference too far, we easily recognize the\nillusion, and lay it aside. This does not occur in representative\nsensations; no one, no matter how great efforts he may make, will ever\nbe able to persuade himself that beyond himself there is nothing real,\nnothing resembling the sensible representation in which objects are\npresented as extended.\n\n75. When we say that some sensations would not be intuitive were they\nnot accompanied by reflection, we do not mean to say that man refers\nthem to an object, after explicit reflection, for we cannot forget what\nwe have already said when explaining at length the instinctive way in\nwhich our faculties develop themselves prior to all reflection, in\ntheir relations with the corporeal world; but only that no necessary\nrelation to an object as represented can be discovered in these\nsensations considered in themselves, and in perfect isolation; and\nthat, probably, if a confused reflection be not mingled with the\ninstinct which makes us render them objective, there at least enters\nsome influence of other sensations, which are by their proper object\nrepresentative.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI.\n\nTWO COGNITIONS: INTUITIVE AND DISCURSIVE.\n\n\n76. Now that I have explained sensible, I pass to intellectual\nintuition. There are two modes of knowing; the one is intuitive, the\nother discursive. Intuitive cognition is that in which the object\nis presented to the understanding, such as it is, and upon which\nthe perceptive faculty has to exercise no function but that of\ncontemplation; it is therefore called _intuition_, from _intueri_, to\nsee.\n\n77. This intuition may take place in two ways. It may either present\nthe object itself to the perceptive faculty, and unite them without\nany intermediacy; or by the intervention of an idea or representation,\ncapable of putting the perceptive faculty in action, so that it\nmay, without the necessity of combination, see the object in this\nrepresentation. The first requires the object perceived to be\nintelligible by itself, since otherwise there could be no union of the\nobject understood with the subject understanding; the second needs a\nrepresentation to supply the place of the object, and consequently it\nis not indispensable that this should be immediately intelligible.[9]\n\n[9] See what has been said concerning _representation_, _immediate\nintelligibility_, and _representation of causality and ideality_, in\nChapters X., XI., XII., and XIII., of Book I. of this work.\n\n78. Discursive cognition is that in which the understanding does not\nhave the object itself present, but forms it itself, so to speak, by\nuniting in one whole conception several partial conceptions, whose\nconnection in one subject it has found out by ratiocination.\n\nIn order to render more apparent the difference between intuitive and\ndiscursive cognition, I will illustrate it by an example. \"We see a\nman; his physiognomy is presented to us, such as it is; no combinations\nare necessary, none could possibly make him appear differently. We\nsee his characteristic features, such as they are; but the collection\nof them is not a thing produced by our combinations; it is an object\ngiven to the perceptive faculty which has nothing to do but to perceive\nit.\" When an object is offered to our understanding in this way, the\ncognition we have of it will be intuitive.\n\nWe have said that the object of intellectual intuition may be united\nimmediately to the perceptive faculty, or that it may be presented\nto it by a medium which acts the part of the object. Keeping in view\nthe same example, we might say that these two classes of intuitions\ncorrespond to those of the man seen by himself, or in his portrait.\nThere would be in both cases intuition of his physiognomy, but no\ncombination would be necessary, and none could possibly form it.\n\nBut suppose some one to tell us of a person whom we have never seen,\nand whose portrait cannot be shown to us. He would be obliged, in order\nto give us an idea of his physiognomy, to enumerate one by one his\ncharacteristic features, by the union of which we shall form an idea of\nthe likeness he has just described. To this imaginary representation\nmay be compared discursive cognition, by which, although we do not\nsee the object, we in some sense construct it, as it were, from\nthe assemblage of those ideas which we have by means of discursion\ninterlinked, and formed into one whole conception representing the\nobject.\n\n79. Kant, in his _Critic of Pure Reason_, speaks repeatedly of\nintuitive and discursive cognition; but he does not explain with\nperfect clearness the distinctive characteristics of these two classes\nof cognition. Let it not, however, be supposed that the discovery of\nthese two ways of perceiving is due to the German philosopher. Many\nages before him, the theologians had known them; nor could it be\notherwise, since the distinction between intuition and discursion is\nintimately connected with one of the fundamental dogmas of Christianity.\n\nIt is well known that our religion admits the possibility and reality\nof a true cognition of God, even in this life. The sacred text tells\nus that we may know God by his works; that the invisible things of God\nare manifested to us by his visible creatures; that the heavens narrate\nhis glory, and the firmament announces the works of his hands; that\nthey who have thus known God are inexcusable, because they have not\nglorified him as they ought; but this same religion teaches us that\nthe Blessed, in the life to come, will know him in a very different\nmanner, will see him as he is, face to face. It was Christianity then\nthat marked the difference between intuitive and discursive cognitions,\nbetween the cognition by which the understanding, proceeding from\neffects to their cause, and uniting in it the ideas of wisdom,\nomnipotence, goodness, holiness, and infinite perfection, rises to\nGod; and the cognition in which the mind does not need to advance,\ndrawing its conclusions by aid of discursion, from various conceptions,\nin order to force from them an idea of God, in which the Infinite\nBeing will offer himself clearly to the eyes of the mind, not in a\nconception elaborated by reason, nor under the sublime mysteries of\nfaith, but such as he is, in himself, as an object given immediately\nto the perceptive faculty, not as an object discovered by the force\nof discursion, or presented under august shadows. And here we find\nanother proof of the great profoundness hidden under the dogmas of\nthe Christian religion. This distinction is to be met with in the\ncatechism, and yet who would have suspected that religion had taught us\na doctrine so important to ideological science? If the child be asked,\nwho is God, he replies by enumerating his perfections, and showing\nthereby that he knows him. If you ask this same child, to what end man\nhas been created, he will answer, to _see_ God, etc.\n\nHere again is the distinction between discursive cognition, or by\nconceptions, and intuitive cognitions; with the former one is said,\nsimply to _know_, with the latter to _see_.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XII.\n\nTHE SENSISM OF KANT.\n\n\n80. Kant maintained that while in the present life, we have only\nsensible intuition; and he considers the possibility of a purely\nintellectual intuition, whether for our own or for other minds\ndoubtful. But as we have seen elsewhere (ch. IX.) that he does not\nattribute any value to conceptions separated from intuition, we\ninfer that he is, notwithstanding his long dissertations upon the\npure understanding, a confirmed sensist; and that the authors of the\n_Critic of Pure Reason_, and of the _Treatise on Sensations_, differ\nmuch less than at first sight might be supposed. If our mind has no\nother intuition than the sensible, and the conceptions of the pure\nunderstanding are, if they do not include some one of these intuitions,\nnothing but empty forms; if when we abstract these intuitions, there\nare in the understanding only purely logical functions, which mean\nnothing, and in no sense deserve to be called cognitions; it follows\nthat there is in our mind nothing but sensations, which may be\nmethodically distributed in conceptions, as if packed away in a kind\nof hut, where they are registered and preserved. According to this\nphilosopher, the understanding is reduced so low, that Condillac\nhimself might admit it.\n\n81. Indeed, in the system of sensations transformed, the mind is\nsupposed to possess a transforming force, since otherwise, it would be\nimpossible to explain all ideological phenomena by mere sensation, and\nthe very title of the system would be a contradiction. This being so,\nwould any sensistic scruple have prevented Condillac from admitting\n_the synthesis of the imagination_, the relations of all sensible\nintuitions to the _unity of apperception_, and finally, a variety of\nlogical functions, to classify and compare sensible intuitions? So far\nis this from being the case, it would seem that the root of all these\ndoctrines might be found in the system of the French philosopher, whose\nfundamental principles, when summed up, amount to this: that nothing\ncan be seen in the mind besides sensations; but he does not therefore\ndeny it a force capable of transforming, classifying, and generalizing\nthem.\n\n82. Here, then, is another check to the originality of the German\nphilosopher; he has, to combat sensism, said in substance just what,\nages before, all the schools repeated; and now when he undertakes to\nfollow a new road to the explanation of the purely intellectual order,\nhe falls into Condillac's system. His empty conceptions, without\nmeaning, without application, beyond the sensible order, amount to no\nmore than what Condillac taught when analyzing the generation of ideas,\nand showing how they flowed from sensations by means of successive\ntransformations. Could there be any difficulty, it would be concerning\nwords, not things: no sensist ought to hesitate accepting whole and\nentire the _Critic of Pure Reason_, when once he has seen what\napplications the German spiritualist makes of his doctrines. It would\nbe very desirable for those who insist that the spiritualism of Kant\nis decidedly destructive of Condillac's sensism, to weigh well these\nobservations.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIII.\n\nEXISTENCE OF PURE INTELLECTUAL INTUITION.\n\n\n83. It is not true that the human mind even in this life has\nno intuition other than the sensible. There are within us many\nnon-sensible phenomena, of which we are clearly conscious. Reflection,\ncomparison, abstraction, election, and all the acts of the\nunderstanding and will, include nothing of the sensible. We should like\nto know, to what species of sensibility, abstract ideas, and the acts\nby which we perceive them, belong; these among others: _I desire_, _I\ndo not desire_, _I choose this_, _I prefer this to that_. Not one of\nthese acts can be presented by sensible intuition; they are facts of\nan order superior to the sphere of sensibility, and yet we have in\nour mind a clear and lively consciousness of them; we reflect upon\nthem, make them the object of our studies, distinguish them one from\nanother, and classify them in a thousand different ways. These facts\nare presented to us immediately; we know them, not by discursion, but\nby intuition; therefore it is false that the intuition of the soul\nrefers to none but sensible phenomena, for it encounters within itself\nan expanded series of non-sensible phenomena, which are given to it in\nintuition.\n\n84. It is of no use to say that these internal phenomena are empty\nforms, and mean nothing, unless referred to a sensible intuition.\nWhatever they may be, they are something distinct from this same\nsensible intuition; and we perceive this something, not by discursion,\nbut by intuition; therefore, besides sensible intuition, there is\nanother of the purely intellectual order.\n\nThe question is not whether these pure conceptions have, or have not,\na certain power to enable us to know objects in themselves; but it\nis simply to ascertain if they do exist, and if they are sensible.\nThat they exist, is certain; consciousness attests this fact, and all\nideologists admit it. That they are sensible, cannot be maintained\nwithout destroying their nature; and least of all can Kant maintain\nthis, since he has so carefully distinguished between sensible\nintuition and these conceptions.\n\n85. This sea of non-sensible phenomena, which we experience within\nus, is like a mirror wherein the depths of the intellectual world\nare reflected. Minds, it is true, are not presented immediately to\nour perception, and to know them we need a discursive process; but\nwe shall, upon careful examination, find in this intuition of our\ninward phenomena the representation, imperfect though it be, of what\nis verified in intelligences of a superior order. Thus we have in a\ncertain mode idea-images, since there can be no better image of one\nthought than another thought, nor of one act of the will than another\nact of the will. Thus we know minds distinct from our own, by a kind of\nmediate, not immediate, intuition, in so far as they are presented to\nour consciousness as the image in a mirror.\n\n86. The communication of minds by means of speech and other natural or\nconventional signs, is a fact of experience intimately connected with\nall intellectual, moral, and physical necessities. When a mind is put\ninto communication with another, the cognition it has of what passes\nin the other is not by mere general conceptions, but by a kind of\nintuition, which although mediate, does not therefore fail to be true.\nThe thought, or affection of another communicated to our mind by means\nof speech, excites in us a thought, or affection, similar to that of\nthe mind communicating them. We do, then, not only know, but _see_, in\nour own consciousness, the consciousness of another; and so perfect\nis at times the likeness, that we anticipate all that he is about to\ntell us, and unroll within ourselves the same series of phenomena that\nare verified in the mind of him with whom we are in communication. It\nhappens thus when we say: \"I understand perfectly what N. thinks, what\nhe wants, what he is trying to express.\"\n\n87. This observation seems to us of great service to place beyond\nall doubt that there are in our mind, independently of the sensible\norder, conceptions, not empty, but referable to a determinate object.\nThe cognition of the phenomena of the purely intellectual order,\ntransmitted to us by means of speech, or other signs, does not destroy\nthe character of the intuition, since we here find all the necessary\nconditions assembled; internal representation, and its relation to a\ndeterminate object affecting us.\n\n88. This analysis of ideological facts, whose existence cannot be\ndoubted, demonstrates the falseness of Kant's doctrine, that there are\nin our mind none but sensible intuitions; as well as the non-existence\nof the German philosopher's problem: whether it is possible, or not,\nfor objects to be given to other minds in an intuition other than\nthe sensible. This very problem is found solved within us, since the\nattentive observation of the internal phenomena, and the reciprocal\ncommunication of minds, has given us to know not only the possibility,\nbut also the existence of intuitions different from the sensible.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIV.\n\nVALUE OF INTELLECTUAL CONCEPTIONS.--ABSTRACTION MADE FROM INTELLECTUAL\nINTUITION.\n\n\n89. Although we should admit that our mind can have no intuition but\nthe sensible, it could not thence be inferred that conceptions of the\npurely intellectual order are empty forms, and in nowise conducive to\nthe knowledge of objects in themselves. It has always been understood\nthat general ideas are not intuitive, since by the very fact that they\nare general they cannot be referred _immediately_ to a determinate\nobject; and yet no one ever doubted that they could serve to give us\ntrue cognitions.\n\n90. It is certain that general ideas, of themselves alone, do not lead\nto any positive result; or, in other words, they do not make us know\nexisting beings; but if they be joined to other particular ones, a\nreciprocal influence is established between them, from which cognition\nresults. When we make the general affirmation: \"Every contingent being\nrequires a cause;\" this proposition, although very true, means nothing\nin the order of facts, if we abstract the existence of contingent\nbeings and causes of every kind. In such a case, the proposition will\nexpress a relation of ideas, not of facts: the cognition which results\ntherefrom will be merely ideal, not positive.\n\n91. This relation of ideas tacitly involves a condition, which gives\nthem, so far as facts are concerned, a hypothetical value; for, when\nwe affirm that every contingent being must have a cause, we are not to\nbe understood to affirm a relation of ideas destitute of all possible\napplication; but rather, on the contrary, to intend that if any\ncontingent being exists, it must have a cause.\n\n92. In order that this hypothetical value of ideas may be converted\ninto a positive value, nothing is necessary but that the condition\ninvolved in the general proposition: \"Every contingent being must\nhave a cause,\" be verified. Of itself alone this teaches us nothing\nconcerning the real world; but from the moment that experience\nshows us a single contingent being, the general proposition, before\nsterile, becomes exceedingly fruitful. So soon as experience shows us\na contingent being, we know the necessity of its cause; we also infer\nthe necessity of the proportions, which the activity producing must\npreserve with the thing produced; knowing the qualities of the latter,\nwe infer those which ought to be found in the former. In this manner,\nresting upon two bases, one of which is ideal truth and the other real\ntruth, or data supplied by experience, we construct a true positive\nscience referred to determinate facts.\n\n93. Since the being that thinks necessarily has consciousness of\nitself, no thinking being can be limited to the cognition of purely\nideal truths. Even if we were to suppose it perfectly isolated from\nall other beings, in absolute non-communication with every thing\nnot itself, so as neither to exert any influence upon them, nor to\nbe influenced by them, it could not be reduced to the cognition of a\npurely ideal order; for, by the very fact that it is thinking, it is\nconscious of itself, and consciousness is essentially a particular\nfact, a cognition of a determinate being, since without it there could\nbe no consciousness.\n\n94. This observation overturns to its very foundation the system which\npretends to bar all communication between the real and ideal orders.\nIt shows also that experience is not only possible, but absolutely\nnecessary to every thinking being, since consciousness is by its\nvery nature an experience, and the clearest and surest experience.\nThe truths of the ideal order are then necessarily interlinked with\nthose of the real order: to suppose all intercommunication between\nthem impossible, is to disown a fundamental fact of ideological and\npsychological science, consciousness.\n\n95. To render the truth and exactness of the preceding doctrine more\nevident, let us suppose a man, or rather a human mind, absolutely\nignorant of the existence of an external world, of every body, and\neven of every spirit; one that knows nothing concerning its own origin\nor destiny, but one that would nevertheless at the same time exercise\nits intellectual activity, without which it would be a lifeless thing,\nand could offer no field to observation. Let us suppose him to have\ngeneral ideas, such as of being and of not-being, of substance and\naccidents, of the absolute and the conditioned, of the necessary and\ncontingent. Manifestly he may combine them in various ways, and arrive\nat the same purely ideal results to which we ourselves arrive. There\nis no supposition more favorable to a series of abstract cognitions\nindependent of experience, and yet not even in this case would the\ntruths known be limited to the purely ideal order; it would even\nhere be impossible for them not to descend to the real order, if the\nthinking being were not dispossessed of all consciousness of itself.\n\nIndeed, by the very fact that a being is supposed capable of thinking,\nit is supposed able to say to itself, _I think_. This act is eminently\nexperimental, and it needs only to be united with general truths in\na common consciousness, to enable the isolated being to rise above\nitself, and create for itself a positive science, by which to pass from\nthe world of ideas to that of facts. The instability of its thoughts,\nand the permanence of the being that experiences them, offer to it a\npractical case in which the general ideas of substance and accident\nare particularized. The successive appearance and disappearance of its\nown conceptions will show to it the ideas of being and of not-being\nrealized; the recollection of the time when its own operations\ncommenced, beyond which the memory of its existence does not extend,\nwill enable it to know the contingency of his own being; and this\nfact, combined with the general principles which express the relations\nbetween contingent and necessary beings, will suggest to the thought\nthat there must be another that communicated to it its existence.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XV.\n\nILLUSTRATIONS OF THE VALUE OF GENERAL CONCEPTIONS.\n\n\n96. However vague the ideas an isolated being would form of objects\ndistinct from itself, they will never be so vague as not to refer to\na real thing. The mind may not know the nature of this reality, but\nit knows for certain that it exists. A man blind from his birth can\nform no clear idea of colors, nor of the sensation of seeing; but\nis he therefore ignorant that sensation exists, and that the words,\ncolor, seeing, and others which refer to sight, have a positive and\ndeterminate object? Certainly not. The blind man does not know in what\nthese things, of which he hears, consist, but he knows that they are\nsomething; those of his conceptions that refer to them may be called\nimperfect, but they are not vain; the words by which he expresses them,\nhave for him a positive, although incomplete meaning.\n\n97. There is a great difference between incomplete and indeterminate\nconceptions; the former may refer to a positive thing, although\nimperfectly known; the latter include nothing but a relation of ideas,\nmeaning nothing in the order of facts. We will render this difference\nmore apparent by explaining the example of the preceding paragraph.\n\nA man blind from his birth has no intuition of colors, nor of any\nthing that refers to the sense of sight; but he is sure that there\nexist external facts which correspond to an internal affection called\n_seeing_. This idea is incomplete, but it has a determinate object.\nThe words of those who possess the sense of sight reveal to him its\nexistence; he knows not, what it is, but, that it is; in other words,\nhe does not know its essence, but its existence. Let us now suppose\nthe possibility of an order of sensations different from ours, and in\nnowise resembling those which we experience, to be called in question.\nThe conception referred to the new sensations would not only be\nincomplete, but would have no relation to any real object. The general\nidea, then, of affection of a sensitive being, will be all that our\nmind will have; but it will know nothing of its existence, and can\nform only mere conjectures as to the conditions of its possibility.\nThis example illustrates our idea. We find in the man blind from his\nbirth, who hears of what pertains to the sense of sight, an incomplete\nconception, but one to which the existence of a series of facts, known\nto his mind, corresponds. But in ourselves, if we reflect upon a kind\nof sensations different from our own, we find conceptions, having,\nindeed, a general object, but of whose realization we know nothing.\n\n98. Thus is it explained how our mind, without having intuition of a\nthing, can, nevertheless, know it, and be perfectly certain of its\nexistence. We have here demonstrated that conceptions may, although\nthey do not refer to a sensible intuition, have a value, not only in\nthe order of ideas, but also in that of facts.\n\n99. In order to prove the sterility of all conception beyond sensible\nintuition, Kant adduces one reason, which is, that we cannot define the\ncategories and the principles which flow from them without referring to\nthe objects of sensibility. This is no proof at all; for, in the first\nplace, the impossibility of a definition does not always arise from the\nfact that the conception to be defined is empty; but it very frequently\nresults from the conception being simple, and consequently not\nsusceptible of a division into parts that may be expressed by words.\nHow will he define the idea of _being_? No matter how he attempts to\ndefine it, the thing to be defined will enter into the definition: the\nwords, thing, reality, existence, all signify _being_.\n\nIt is very natural, since sensible intuition is the basis of our\nrelations with the external world, and consequently with our\nfellow-men, that when we purpose to express any relation whatever, we\nshould call to our aid sensible applications; but we are not thence\nto infer that there is not in our mind, independently of them, a real\ntruth contained in the conception which we wish to explain.\n\n100. This capacity of knowing objects under general ideas, is a\ncharacteristic property of our mind, and we cannot, in our inability to\npenetrate to the essence of things, think without this indispensable\nauxiliary. In the ordinary course of human affairs, it often happens\nthat we need to know the existence of a thing and of some of its\nattributes, but do not require a perfect knowledge of it. In such\ncases, general ideas, aided by some data of experience, put us in\nmediate communication with the object not presented to our intuition.\nBut why cannot the same thing be verified with respect to non-sensible\nbeings, which alone are the object of intellectual intuitions? I know\nnot what exception can be taken to these observations, founded as they\nare upon observation of internal phenomena, and confirmed by common\nsense.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVI.\n\nVALUE OF PRINCIPLES, INDEPENDENTLY OF SENSIBLE INTUITION.\n\n\n101. The principle of contradiction, indispensable condition of all\ncertainty, of all truth, and without which the external world, and\nintelligence itself, would become a chaos, offers us a good example of\nthe intrinsic value of purely intellectual conceptions independent of\nsensible intuition.\n\nNo determinate idea is united to the conception of being when we affirm\nthe impossibility of a thing being and not-being at the same time, or\nthe exclusion of not-being by being; and so far we absolutely abstract\nall sensible intuition. Whatever be its object, whatever its nature\nand the relations of its existence; be it corporeal or incorporeal,\ncomposite or simple, accident or substance, contingent or necessary,\nfinite or infinite, always will it be found true that being excludes\nnot-being; the absolute incompatibility of these two extremes will\nalways be verified, so that the affirmation of the one is always, in\nall cases, and under all imaginable suppositions, the negation of the\nother.\n\nThis being so, to limit the value of these conceptions to sensible\nintuition, would be to destroy the principle of contradiction. The\nlimitation of the principle is equivalent to its nullification. Its\nabsolute universality is closely allied to its absolute necessity;\nif it be curtailed, it is made contingent; for, if the principle of\ncontradiction may fail us in one instance, it fails us in all. To\nadmit the possibility of what is absurd, is to deny its absurdity.\nIf the contradiction of being and not-being does not exist in every\nsupposition, it exists in no supposition.\n\n102. The difficulty is to know how the transition from the principle\nof contradiction to real truths, is made; because not affirming any\nthing determinate in it, but solely the repugnance of yes to no, and\nof no to yes, we assert that it would be impossible to affirm either\none of these extremes without denying the other; and as on the other\nhand, it is impossible, if we confine ourselves to the principle of\ncontradiction, for it to include any thing more than the most general\nrelation between two general ideas, we conclude that it is of itself\nalone, perfectly sterile and unable to conduct us to any positive\nresult. This is all true; but it contradicts in no point what we have\nsaid concerning the intrinsic value of general conceptions.\n\nWe have remarked that truths of the purely ideal order have none but a\nhypothetical value, and that in order to produce a positive science,\nthey require facts to which they may apply. We have also remarked,\nthat experience furnishes these facts, and that every thinking being\npossesses one at least, consciousness of itself. Every thinking being\nwill therefore, provided it discover in its own consciousness facts\nto which it may apply it, make a positive use of the principle of\ncontradiction.\n\n103. Even were we to admit the supposition that there is in our mind\nno intuition but the sensible, it could not therefore be concluded\nthat general principles, and more particularly that of contradiction,\ncan have no positive value; because, if we suppose these principles\ncombined with sensible intuition to produce a cognition of other beings\nout of the order of sensibility, it would follow that we really know\nthem, although they were not given to us in immediate intuition. And\nthis is verified in the human mind, when it rises by discursion to\nthe cognition of the non-sensible. On the one hand, the data furnished\nby experience, and on the other, general and necessary truths, form\na connection constituting a positive science, which guides us with\nperfect security to the cognition of objects not subject to immediate\nexperience.\n\nThis theory is so clear, so evident, so rooted in the consciousness of\nour own acts, so perfectly in accordance with all that we observe in\nthe proceedings of the human mind, that it causes us a strange surprise\nto meet philosophers, whose erroneous doctrines oblige us to explain\nand defend it.\n\n104. The transition from the known to the unknown is a proceeding\ncharacteristic of our understanding; and this transition is impossible\nif the reality of every cognition, not referred to an intuition, be\ndenied. Whatever is presented to us in this latter way, is given to us,\nis present to our sight, and we have no necessity of seeking it. If,\ntherefore, no object be really known, unless offered in intuition, all\nintellectual progress becomes impossible: all the advances of our mind\nare reduced to combinations of the forms presented to the sensibility,\nand even these lead to nothing whenever they cease to be intuitive;\nthat is, when they no longer relate to determinate objects immediately\nperceived. The _Critic of Pure Reason_ is the destruction of all\nreason: for it examines itself with suicidal intent, or in order to\nprove that it contains nothing positive.\n\nScience cannot survive the reduction of general principles to one\nonly value relative to sensible intuitions. What we have demonstrated\nconcerning the principle of contradiction, is _a fortiori_ applicable\nto all other principles. If this be not saved, all must perish in the\nwreck. Moreover, the very basis of the necessity involved in these\nprinciples is threatened. We know nothing, save that there is within\nus a series of phenomena which _seem_ necessary. But what use can we\nmake of them beyond the subjective order? None at all. Behold us then\nin the most perfect skepticism, condemned to simple appearances, with\nno means of knowing any reality.\n\n105. No! the human mind is not condemned to so despairing a sterility:\nreason is not an empty word; ratiocination is not a puerile play, only\nfit to serve as an amusement. In the midst of the prepossessions,\nerrors, and extravagance of human misery, towers on high that force,\nthat admirable activity, by which the mind springs beyond itself,\n_knows_ what it does not _see_, and _foresees_ what it will one day\n_feel_. Nature is veiled to our eyes; impenetrable secrets surround\nus; whichever way we turn deep shadows hide the reality of objects:\nbut through this darkness we discern from afar some scintillation of\nlight. Notwithstanding the profound silence which reigns over the sea\nof beings, whose surges toss us about like imperceptible atoms in the\nimmensity of the ocean, we hear at times mysterious voices tell us the\ncourse we must keep to reach unknown shores.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVII.\n\nRELATIONS OF INTUITION WITH THE RANK OF THE PERCEPTIVE BEING.\n\n\n106. The perfection of intelligence involves extension and clearness\nof its intuitions; the more perfect it is, the more intuitive it will\nbe. The infinite intelligence does not know by discursion, but by\nintuition: it does not need to seek objects: it sees them all before\nitself. It sees with intuition of identity what belongs to its own\nessence, and with intuition of causality every thing that does or can\nexist outside of itself. Other minds have an intuition so much the more\nperfect as they are more elevated in the order to which they belong; so\nthat cognition by conceptions indicates an imperfection of intelligence.\n\n107. The relations of one being with other beings will therefore depend\nupon the rank it holds in the scale of the universe. God, infinite\nbeing, and the cause of all that does or can exist, has intimate and\nimmediate relations with the whole universe, considered not only in its\nentireness but even in its smallest particles. There is consequently\nin God a most perfect representation of all beings taken not only in\ntheir generality, but also in their minutest differences. The Being,\ncause of all, does not know objects by vague conceptions, by means of\nrepresentations which only show what all beings have in common, but as\nhe has made their slightest differences, they must be presented to him\nwith perfect clearness. His cognition is founded upon a reality which\nis himself; his understanding does not fluctuate through an ideal and\nhypothetical world; but, fixed with clearest intuition upon infinite\nreality, he sees all that the infinite being is, and all that it can\nproduce with its infinite activity. For God there is no experience\nproceeding from without, for nothing can exert any influence upon him;\nall his experience consists in the knowledge and love of himself.\n\n108. Created beings, occupying a determinate place in the scale of the\nuniverse, relate to it only under certain aspects. Their relations with\ntheir fellow beings are brought to a point of view, to which their\nperceptive faculties are subordinated. The representativeness, which\nthey contain in themselves, must be proportionate to the cognition\nthat has to produce it. Hence it follows that every intelligent being\nwill have its representativeness adapted to the functions it has to\nexercise in the universe. If the being do not pertain to the order of\nintelligences, its perceptive faculties will be limited to sensible\nintuitions, in a measure corresponding to the place it is destined to\noccupy.\n\n109. We have seen that general ideas and the intuition of determinate\nobjects fecundate the intellectual faculties. From this we infer that\nevery intelligence stands in need of intuitions, if its cognitions are\nnot to be limited to a purely hypothetical order.\n\nThe human mind, destined to a union with the body, and to a continual\ncommunication with the corporeal universe, has received the gift of\nsensible intuition as the basis of its relations with bodies. The same\nis the case with brutes. Sensible intuition has been given to them\nbecause they must have continual relations with the external world:\nbut, being confined to the functions of animal life, they have no\nintuitions superior to the sphere of sensibility, nor do they possess\nthe force necessary to convert sensible representations into objects of\nintellectual combinations.\n\n110. There is an immense difference between brutes and man, in the\nscale of beings. Since every intelligence is conscious of itself, and\ncan fix its attention upon its acts, the human mind knows its own\nintuitively, and therefore discovers in itself an intuition superior to\nthe sensible. Besides these intuitions, we have the power of discursion\nby which we form representations, and by them attain to the cognition\nof objects not offered immediately to our perception.\n\nThus, starting with the data furnished by external and internal\nexperience, and aided by those general principles which involve the\nprimary conditions of every intelligence and of every being, we are\nenabled to penetrate to the world of reality, and to know, although\nimperfectly, the assemblage of beings which constitute the universe,\nand the infinite cause which made them all.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVIII.\n\nASPIRATIONS OF THE HUMAN SOUL.\n\n\n111. A close observation of internal phenomena shows that the human\nsoul aspires to something far beyond all that it actually possesses.\nNot satisfied with the objects given to it in immediate intuition, it\ndarts forward in pursuit of others of a superior order; and even in\nthose that are offered to it immediately, it is not contented with the\naspect under which they _appear_, but seeks to know what they _are_.\nThe purely individual does not satisfy the soul. Nailed to one point\nin the immense scale of beings, it is unwilling to limit itself to the\nperception of those that are in its environs, and form, as it were,\nthe atmosphere wherein it must live; it aspires to the cognition of\nthose that precede and follow it, and seeks to know the connection, to\ndiscover the law from which results the ineffable harmony that presides\nover the creation. It finds its purest pleasures in rising from the\nsphere where the limitation of its faculties holds it confined. Its\nactivity is greater than its strength; its desires superior to its\nbeing.\n\n112. We discover the same phenomenon in the sentiment and the will as\nin the understanding. Man has, to satisfy his necessities, and provide\nfor the preservation of the individual and of the race, sensations and\nsentiments which direct him to determinate objects; but at the side of\nthese affections, limited to the sphere in which he is circumscribed,\nhe experiences sentiments of a more elevated character, which make him\nspring beyond his orbit, and absorb, so to speak, his individuality in\nthe ocean of infinity.\n\nWhen man comes in contact with nature in herself, despoiled of all\nconditions relating to individuals, he experiences an indefinable\nsentiment, a kind of foretaste of the infinite. Go into an uninhabited\nregion and sit down by the sea side; hark to the deafening roar of\nthe waves breaking at your feet, and the whistling of the winds which\nhave raised them; with eyes fixed on this immensity, see the azure\nline where the vault of heaven unites with the waters of the ocean:\nstand on a vast and desert plain, or in the heart of ancient forests;\ncontemplate in the silence of night the firmament studded with stars,\nfollowing their course in tranquillity, as they have followed it for\nages past, and will follow it for ages to come: without effort, or\nlabor of any kind, abandon yourself to the spontaneous movements of\nyour soul, and you will see how sentiments spring up in it and move it\nto its very centre; how they elevate it above itself, and absorb it, as\nit were, in immensity. Its individuality vanishes from its own eyes, as\nit feels the harmony presiding over that immense creation of which it\nforms but a most insignificant part. In such solemn moments is it that\ninspired genius chants the glories of creation, and lifts one corner of\nthe veil that hides the resplendent throne of the supreme Creator from\nthe eye of mortals.\n\n113. That calm, grave, and profound sentiment which masters us on such\noccasions, has no relation to individual objects; it is an expansion\nof the soul at a touch of nature, as the flower expands to the rays of\nthe sun in the morning, it is a divine attraction by which the author\nof all created things raises us above the dust in which we drag out our\nbrief days. Thus the heart and the understanding harmonize; thus the\none foretastes what the other knows; thus we are warned in different\nways, that the exercise of our faculties is not limited to the narrow\norbit conceded to us upon this earth. Let us be on our guard, lest the\nheart be frozen with the coldness of insensibility, and the torch of\nthe understanding quenched by the devastating blasts of skepticism.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIX.\n\nELEMENTS AND VARIETY OF THE CHARACTERS OF SENSIBLE REPRESENTATION.\n\n\n114. I now come to examine the primitive elements of our mental\ncombinations. I shall begin with their sensible elements. Extension\nenters into every act of representative sensibility; without it nothing\nis represented to us, and sensations are reduced to mere affections of\nthe soul, having no relation to any object.\n\n115. Extension, of itself, abstracted from its limitability, is\nsusceptible of no combination; it only offers a vague, indefinite,\nimmense representation, from which nothing distinct of itself results.\nBut if limitability be joined to extension, figurability, that is, the\ninfinite field over which geometrical science extends, will result.\n\n116. _Extension_ and _limitability_ are then the two elements of\nsensible intuition. These elements may be offered to us in two ways,\neither joined to sensations which present to us determinate objects,\nor as productions of our own internal activity. If we see the disc\nof the moon, we have an intuition of the former class; and if we\nstudy the properties of a circle by producing within ourselves its\nrepresentation, this will be an intuition of the latter class.\n\n117. This internal activity, by which, at our will or caprice, we\nproduce an indefinite number of representations, with an indefinite\nvariety of forms, is an important phenomenon and one worthy of\nattention. It shows us that the productive activity is not limited\nto the purely intellectual order, since we detect it in the sensible\norder, not in any way whatever, but as unrolled on an infinite scale.\nSuppose a right line to be produced to infinity, besides it and in the\nsame plane, we may infinite other lines; the variety of angles in which\nwe may consider the position of the different lines will extend to the\ninfinite; so that with right lines alone, the productive activity in\nthe order of sensibility will know no limit. If we substitute curves\nfor right lines, their combinations in form, in nature, in their\nrespective positions and relations with determinate axes, will likewise\nbe infinite: so that without quitting the sensible order, we discover\nwithin ourselves a force productive of infinite representations, and\none needing no elements besides terminable or figurable extension.\n\n118. The representative sensible faculty develops itself sometimes by\nthe presence of an object; at other times, spontaneously, without any\ndependence on the will; and finally, at other times, in consequence of\na free act. This is not the place to examine in what way the phenomenon\nof representation is connected with the affections of the corporeal\norgans; at present, we propose only to designate and explain facts in\nthe ideological sphere, absolutely abstracting their physiological\naspect.\n\nAmong the sensible representations just classified, which we may call\n_passive_, _spontaneous_, and _free_, there are differences worthy of\nobservation.\n\n119. Passive representation is given to the soul, independently of\nits activity. If we be placed in presence of an object, with our eyes\nopen, it will be impossible not to see it, or even not to see it in\na certain manner, if we do not change the direction of our eyesight\nor other condition of vision. For this reason, the soul seems, in the\nexercise of its senses, to be purely passive, since its representations\nnecessarily depend on the conditions to which its corporeal organs in\ntheir relation to objects, are subject.\n\n120. Spontaneous representation, or the faculty productive of sensible\nrepresentations, seems also, since it operates independently of\nexternal objects and of the will, to be more or less passive, and its\nexercise to depend upon organic affections. And the fact that these\nsensations are wont to exist without any order, or at most, if they\nare recollections of old sensations, with that only which they had at\nanother time, appears to indicate it. It is also worthy of note that\nthese representations are sometimes offered to us, in spite of all the\nefforts of the will to dissipate and forget them: some are so tenacious\nas for a long time to triumph over all the resistance of freewill.\n\nIt is not easy to explain this phenomenon without recurring to organic\ncauses, which, on determinate occasions, produce the same effect upon\nthe soul, as the impressions of the external senses. It is certain that\nthe internal representation reaches, in certain cases, so high a point\nof vividness, that the subject confounds it with the impressions of the\nsenses. This can only be explained by saying that the interior organic\naffection has become so powerful, as to be equivalent to that which the\nimpression of an object operating upon the external organ, could have\ncaused.\n\n121. In this spontaneous production it is to be remarked that present\nrepresentations do not always correspond with others previously\nreceived; but a power of combination is developed in them from which\nresult imaginary objects entirely new. This combination is sometimes\nexercised in a perfectly blind manner, and then follow extravagant\nresults; but, at other times, this activity subjected to certain\nconditions produces, independently of free will, objects artistically\nbeautiful and sublime.\n\nGenius is nothing else than the spontaneity of the imagination and\nsentiment, developed in subordination to the conditions of the\nbeautiful. Artists, not gifted with genius, do not lack strength of\nwill to produce works of genius; nor are they wanting in imagination\nto reproduce a beautiful object if they have once seen it; they do not\nlack discernment and taste to distinguish and admire beautiful objects,\nnor are they ignorant of the rules of art or of all that can be said to\nexplain the character of beauty; what they lack is that instinctively\nfine spontaneity which develops itself in the most recondite\nsinuosities of the soul, and far from being dependent upon the free\nwill of its possessor, directs and domineers over him, pursues him in\nsleep as in the hours of waking, in the time of recreation as in that\nof business, and often consumes the very existence of the privileged\nman, as a furious fire bursts the sides of the frail cage that holds it.\n\n122. Free production occurs when representations are offered to us by\ncommand of our will, and under the conditions it prescribes, as in\nworks of art, and in the combinations of those figures which constitute\nthe object of the science of geometry.\n\n123. This _a priori_ construction cannot be referred to a type existing\nin our imagination; since, as this type would then be the sensible\nrepresentation itself, it would not need to be constructed. How then\nis it possible to form a representation of which we have not already\nthe image? It is not enough to possess the elements, that is, figurable\nextension, since with them infinite figures may be constructed;\nsomething else then is needed, something to serve as a rule, in order\nthat the desired representation may result.\n\nFor the better understanding of this, I would observe that sensible\nintuitions are allied to general conceptions, by whose aid they may\nbe reconstructed. Although, in reality, no sensible representation\nis offered to us, of any figure whatsoever, for example, a regular\nhexagon; the conception formed of the ideas, _six_, _line_, _equality\nof angles_, is all that we need to produce in our interior the sensible\nrepresentation of the hexagon, and to construct it within us, if we\nrequire it.\n\nThis shows us that the free activity producing determinate sensible\nrepresentations is based upon general conceptions, which, though\nindependent of sensibility, refer to it in an indeterminate manner.\nHence, also, it follows, that the understanding may, if it observe the\nconditions to which the elements furnished by sensibility in their\nrespective cases, are subject, conceive the sensible indeterminately,\nwithout the intellectual act being referred to any determinate\nintuition.\n\n124. If we analyze the object of these general conceptions, referred\nto sensible intuition, also considered in general, the understanding,\nwhile occupied in them, seems to be taken up with things not distinctly\noffered to it, but retained only by certain signs; confident, however,\nthat it can develop whatever they involve, and contemplate it with\nperfect clearness.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XX.\n\nINTERMEDIATE REPRESENTATIONS BETWEEN SENSIBLE INTUITION AND THE\nINTELLECTUAL ACT.\n\n\n125. The question now occurs, whether the understanding, in order to\nperceive the geometrical relations offered in sensible intuition,\ndoes or does not need some intermediate representations which bring\nit into contact with the sensible order?[10] Such a necessity would,\nat first sight, seem to exist, since, as the understanding is a\nnon-sensible faculty, sensible elements cannot be its immediate object.\nBut on maturer examination, it seems more probable that there is no\nnecessity of any thing intermediate, except some sign to connect the\nsensible elements, and to show the point where they must unite, and the\nconditions to which they are subject. As this sign may, however, be a\nword, or something else, susceptible of a sensible representation, its\nmediation will not at all solve the difficulty; since the question will\nalways recur: How is the understanding placed in communication with the\nsensible sign?\n\n[10] See Chap. VI.\n\nThis difficulty arises from the faculty of the soul being considered,\nnot only as distinct, but also, as separate, and as exercising each one\nof its faculties in its own peculiar and exclusive sphere, entirely\nisolated from that of all others. This mode of considering the\nfaculties of the soul, though favorable to the classification of their\noperations, does not accord with the teachings of experience.\n\nIt cannot be denied that we observe within ourselves, affections and\noperations, very unlike each other, and arising from distinct objects,\nand producing very different results. This has led to a distinction\nof faculties, and in some degree, to a separation of their functions,\nso as to prevent them from mixing together and being confounded. But\nthere can be no doubt that all the affections and operations of the\nsoul are, as consciousness reveals, bound to a common centre. Whatever\nbecomes of the distinction of the faculties among themselves, it is\nvery certain, as consciousness tells us, that it is one and the same\nbeing that thinks, feels, desires, acts, or suffers: it is certain\nthat this same consciousness reveals to us the intimate communication\nof all the operations of the soul. We instantaneously reflect upon the\nimpression received; we instantaneously experience an agreeable or\ndisagreeable sensation in consequence of a reflection which occurs to\nus: we reflect upon the will; we seek or repudiate the object of our\nthought; there is, so to speak, within us a boiling spring of phenomena\nof different kinds, all interlinked, modified, produced, reproduced,\nand mutually influenced by each other in their incessant communication.\nWe are conscious of all these; we encounter them all in one common\nfield, which is the subject that experiences them. What necessity,\nthen, is there to imagine intermediate beings in order to bring the\nfaculties of the soul into communication with each other? Why may it\nnot with its activity, called understanding, occupy itself immediately\nwith sensible representations and affections and with all that is in\nits consciousness? Supposing this consciousness in its indivisible\nunity to comprise all the variety of internal phenomena, it does not\ntherefore follow that the intellectual activity of the soul cannot be\nreferred to whatever it contains of active or receptive, without its\nbeing necessary to imagine species to serve as courtiers between the\nfaculties, to announce to one what has taken place in the other.\n\n126. The _acting intellect_ of the Aristotelians, admissible in sound\nphilosophy so far as it denotes an activity of the mind applied to\nsensible representations, does not seem alike admissible, if it be\nsupposed to be the producer of new representations distinct from\nthe intellectual act itself. The understanding is all activity; the\nreceptivity of the soul has nothing to do with it, but to proportion\nits materials; and the conceptions elaborated in presence of these\nmaterials, seem to be nothing else than the exercise of this same\nactivity, subject on the one hand to the conditions required by the\nthing understood, and subordinated on the other hand to the general\nconditions of every intelligence.\n\n127. I do not mean to say that the intellectual act does not refer\nto any object. I replace the idea by other acts of the soul, or by\naffections or representations of some kind or other, whether active\nor passive. This being so, if I am asked, for example, what is the\nimmediate object of the intellectual act perceiving of determinate\nsensible intuition, I reply that it is the intuition itself. If the\ndifficulty of explaining the union of such different things be urged,\nI answer: first, that this union exists in the unity of consciousness,\nas the internal sense attests: second, that the same difficulty\nmilitates against those who pretend that the understanding elaborates\nan intelligible species, which it takes from the sensible intuition;\nand how, I may ask, does the understanding place itself in contact\nwith this intuition when it would elaborate its intelligible species.\nIf this immediate contact be impossible in the one case, it will be\nequally so in the other; and if they concede it to be possible in their\nown case, they cannot deny it to be possible in ours also.\n\nWhen the understanding refers to no determinate intuition, but only\nto sensible intuitions in general, its immediate object is their\npossibility also in general, subject to the conditions of the object\nconsidered in general, and to those of every intelligence; among which,\nthe principle of contradiction holds a primary place.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXI.\n\nDETERMINATE AND INDETERMINATE IDEAS.\n\n\n128. We must, under pain of falling into sensism, by limiting the\nunderstanding to the perception and combination of objects presented by\nsensibility, admit other than intellectual acts referable to sensible\nobjects in general. And what, in this case, is the object of the\nintellectual act, is a question as difficult as it is interesting.\n\n129. The pure understanding can exercise its functions either upon\ndeterminate or indeterminate ideas; that is, upon ideas which contain\nsomething determinate, something realizable in a being, that is or\nmay be offered to our perception, or upon ideas which represent\ngeneral relations, without application to any object. Care should be\ntaken not to confound general with indeterminate, or particular with\ndeterminate ideas. Every intermediate idea is a general idea, but not\n_vice versa_. The idea of _being_ is general and indeterminate; that\nof _intelligence_ is general but determinate. The particular idea\nrefers to an individual; the determinate to a property, and it does not\ncease to be determinate although we abstract all relation in it to an\nexisting individual. This distinction opens the way to considerations\nof the highest importance.\n\n130. When the understanding proceeds by indeterminate conceptions, its\nprincipal object seems to be _being_ in its greatest universality. This\nis the radical and fundamental idea, round which all other ideas are\ngrouped. From the idea of being springs the principle of contradiction,\nwith its infinite applications to every class of objects; from it also\nflow the ideas of substance and accidents, of cause and effect, of the\nnecessary and the contingent, and every thing contained in the science\nof ontology, called for this very reason _ontology_, or the science of\nbeing.\n\n131. There is nothing in those conceptions which express the general\nrelations of all beings, to characterize them until they quit their\npurely metaphysical sphere and descend into the field of reality.\n\nIn order to be able to conceive of a real being, we require it to be\npresented to us with some property. Being and not-being, substance\nand accidents, cause and effect, are, when combined with something\npositive, highly fruitful ideas; but taken in general, with nothing\ndeterminate assigned to them, they do not offer us any existing, or\neven possible object.\n\n132. The idea of being presents us that of a _thing_ in the abstract;\nbut if we would conceive of this as existing or as possible, we must\nimagine this thing to be something with characteristic properties.\nWhenever we hear an existing thing spoken of, we instinctively ask what\nit is, and what is its nature. God is essentially being, is infinite\nbeing; but nothing would be represented to our mind were we to conceive\nof him only as of being, and not also as intelligent, active, free\nbeing endowed with all the other perfections of his infinite essence.\n\n133. The idea of substance offers us that of a permanent being, which\ndoes not, like a modification, inhere in another. This idea, taken\nin its generality without other determination than that added to the\nidea of being, by that of subsistence, offers us nothing real or\nrealizable. Permanence in general, subsistence by itself, non-inherence\nin a subject, do not suffice to enable a substance to exist or to be\npossible; some characteristic mark, some attribute is also needed, as\ncorporeal, intelligent, free, or any other you please, to determine the\ngeneral idea of substance.\n\n134. The same may be said of the idea of cause, or productive\nactivity. An active thing, in general, offers us nothing either real\nor possible. In order to conceive an existing activity, we must refer\nto a determinate activity; the idea of acting, or of being able to\nact, in general, does not suffice; we must represent it to ourselves,\nas exercising itself in one way or another, referring to determinate\nobjects, producing, not beings in general, but beings having their own\ncharacteristic attributes. True, we do not need to know what these\nattributes are; but we do need to know that they exist with their\ndeterminateness.\n\nThe most universal cause conceivable is God, the first and infinite\ncause; and although we do not conceive of him as of cause in the\nabstract, regarding the simple idea of productive activity, but\nwe attach to the general idea of cause the ideas of free will and\nintelligence. When we say that God is omnipotent, we assign an infinite\nsphere to his power; we do not know the characteristic attributes\nof all the beings which can be created by this infinite activity;\nbut we are certain that every existing or possible being must have\na determinate nature; and we do not conceive it to be possible for\na being to be produced, which, without any determination, would be\nnothing but being.\n\n135. We do not meet this determination, indispensable as it is\nto us, if we would conceive of the existence or possibility of a\nbeing, in indeterminate ideas, but must take it from experience;\nwherefore, if our understanding were limited to the combination of\nthose relations offered in indeterminate conceptions, it would be\ncondemned to a perfectly sterile science. We have already seen (Chap.\nXIV.) that the absolute non-communication of the real with the\nideal order is impossible if the intelligible order be not deprived\nof all consciousness of itself. It is not enough to know, that such\na communication exists, but we must ascertain in what points it is\nverified, and how far it extends.\n\n136. Before passing to this investigation, we would observe, that the\ndoctrine explained in this chapter is not to be confounded with that\nof the fourteenth chapter. There, it was shown that general ideas of\nthemselves alone, have only a purely hypothetical value, and lead\nto nothing because they are not combined with any thing positive,\nfurnished by experience; here, we have proved that indeterminate ideas\nof being, substance, and cause, do not of themselves alone suffice\nto enable us to conceive of any thing either existing or possible,\nif they be not accompanied by some determinate idea, which gives a\ncharacter to the general ideas. There, a hypothetical value, with\nrespect to their existence, was allotted to general ideas: here, we\naffirm it to be necessary for these ideas to be accompanied by some\nproperty that shall render them capable of constituting an essence,\nat least in the possible order. These are very different things, and\nmust not be confounded; hence the importance of not forgetting the\ndistinction between general and indeterminate, and between particular\nand determinate ideas.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXII.\n\nLIMITS OF OUR INTUITION.\n\n\n137. Could we assign limits to the field of experience, and\ndetermine exactly how much they inclose, we could also determine the\ncharacteristics by which a being may be presented to us as existing or\nas possible.\n\n138. Passive sensibility, active sensibility, understanding, and will,\nare, if we be not mistaken, all that our understanding contains; and\nthis is why we cannot conceive of any attribute characteristic of\nbeing, except these four. Let us examine these, each in its turn, and\nwith the care required by the importance of the results which will\nfollow this demarcation.\n\n139. By passive sensibility we understand the form under which bodies\nare presented. As we have already explained it in several places, this\nform is reducible to figured or bounded extension.\n\nIt cannot be denied that this attribute contains a true determination,\nas there is nothing more determinate than objects presented to our\nsenses, with extension, and figure, and other properties annexed\nto these fundamental attributes. Motion and impenetrability are\ndeterminations which accompany extension, or rather they are relations\nof extension. To us, motion is the change of the situations of a\nbody in space, or the alteration in the positions of the extension\nof a body, with respect to the extension of space. Impenetrability\nis the reciprocal exclusion of two extensions. The idea of solid and\nliquid, of hard and soft, and other similar ideas, express relations\nof the extension of a body to their admission, with greater or less\nresistance, of the extension of another in one and the same place.\n\nQuestions upon the nature of extension have no place here. Extension\nis, so far as we are concerned, a determinate object, presented to us\nin the clearest intuition. The attribute of passive sensibility has\never been regarded as one of the most characteristic determinations;\nand this is why it has been made to enter as a fundamental\nclassification in the scale of beings. The distinctions of corporeal\nand incorporeal, of material and immaterial, of sensible and\ninsensible, are of as frequent use in ordinary language as in that of\nthe schools; and it is obvious that the words, corporeal, material, and\nsensible, although not perfectly synonymous under some aspects, are\nusually taken to be such, in so far as they express a kind of beings,\nwhose characteristic properties are those forms under which they are\noffered to our senses.\n\n140. Active sensibility is the faculty of feeling; and is to us an\nobject of immediate experience, since we have it within us. From the\nclear presence of sensitive acts, we may easily conceive what feeling\nis in other subjects than ourselves. We have no consciousness of what\npasses in another subject when it sees; but we know what it is to see;\nit is in others the same as in ourselves. In our own consciousness that\nof others is portrayed. We well know what is spoken of, when we hear a\nsensitive being mentioned; and this too by a perfectly determinate, not\nby a vague idea. If the question be raised, whether other senses are\npossible, the idea of a being endowed with them, loses a certain amount\nof its determinateness: our understanding has no intuition of what it\nwould be; it discourses upon the reality or possibility by means of\ngeneral conceptions.\n\n141. Understanding, or the force of conceiving and combining,\nindependently of the sensible order, is another of the data furnished\nby our own experience. As this is a fact of consciousness, we know it\nby intuition, not by abstract ideas; it is the exercise of an activity\nwhich we feel within ourselves; it is the _me_ which we ourselves are.\nThis activity, by reason of its very union, its identity with the\nsubject perceiving it, is present to us in so intimate a manner that we\nfind no difficulty in perceiving it.\n\nThe idea of understanding is intuitive to us, not indeterminate, since\nit presents an object which is immediately given to our perception in\nour soul itself. When we speak of understanding, we fix our views upon\nwhat passes within ourselves, and we see greater or less perfection\nin the scale of intelligent beings portrayed in the gradation of the\ncognitions which we experience within ourselves; and when we would\nconceive of a far higher understanding, we enlarge and perfect the type\nwe have discovered within ourselves; just as we represent to ourselves\ngreater, more perfect, and more beautiful sensible objects, than those\nwe see, without quitting the sphere of sensibility, but making use of\nthe elements it furnishes to us, and enlarging and embellishing them so\nas to attain to that ideal type already conceived of in our imagination.\n\n142. The will, although an inseparable companion of the understanding,\nand even necessary to its existence, is nevertheless a very different\nfaculty from it; for the will offers to our intuition a series of\nphenomena very unlike the phenomena of the understanding. To understand\nis not to will; a thing may be known, and yet not willed. One and the\nsame act of the understanding may unite at various times, or in diverse\nsubjects, very different if not contradictory acts of the will; to will\nand to not will; or inclination and aversion.\n\nThe cognition of that series of phenomena called _acts of the will_,\nis not a general but a particular, not an abstract but an intuitive,\ncognition. What necessity is there of abstraction or discursion to\nascertain what we will or do not will, what we love or what we abhor?\nThis cognition is intuitive, so far as the acts of our own will are\nconcerned; and although we have no immediate intuition of what the\nwill of others is, we know perfectly well what passes in them, from\nseeing it in some degree manifested by what we ourselves experience.\nWhen we hear the acts of another's will spoken of, have we, by chance,\nany difficulty in conceiving the object in question? Are we obliged\nto proceed discursively by abstract ideas? Certainly not! The same\noccurs in others as in ourselves. When they will, or do not will, they\nexperience just what we ourselves experience when we will or do not\nwill. The consciousness of our will is the image of all others existing\nor possible. We conceive that will to be more or less perfect, which\nunites in a higher or lower degree the actual or possible perfections\nof our own: and if we would conceive a will of infinite perfection, we\nmust elevate to an infinite degree the actual or possible perfection\nwhich we discover in the finite will.\n\n143. When the Sacred Text tells us that man is created to the image\nand likeness of God, it teaches us a truth highly luminous, whether\nconsidered in a purely philosophical or in a supernatural aspect. We\ndiscover in our soul, in this image of infinite intelligence, not\nonly a multitude of general ideas which carry us beyond the limits\nof sensibility, but also an admirable representation wherein we\ncontemplate, as in a mirror, every thing that passes in that infinite\nsea which cannot be known by immediate intuition so long as we remain\nin this life. This representation is imperfect, is enigmatical; but\nit is a true representation: in its minutest particles, infinitely\nincreased, we may contemplate the infinite; its feeblest brilliance\nreflects back to us the splendor of infinity. The slight spark struck\nfrom the flint may lead the imagination to that ocean of fire,\ndiscovered by astronomers in the orb of day.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXIII.\n\nOF THE NECESSITY INVOLVED IN IDEAS.\n\n\n144. In all ideas, even in those that relate to contingent facts, there\nis something of the necessary, something from which science may spring,\nbut something which cannot emanate from experience, however multiplied\nwe suppose it. Every induction resulting from experience is confined to\na limited number of facts,--a number, which, even if augmented by all\nthe experience of all men of all ages, would still remain infinitely\nbelow universality, which extends to all that is possible.\n\nMoreover, however little we reflect upon the certainty of the truths\nintimately connected with experience, such as are arithmetical and\ngeometrical truths, we cannot fail to perceive that the confidence with\nwhich we build upon them is not founded upon induction, but that we\nassent to them independently of any particular fact, and consider their\ntruth as absolutely necessary, although we cannot verify it by the\ntouchstone of experience.\n\n145. The verification of ideas by facts is in many cases impossible,\nbecause the weakness of our perception and of our senses, and the\ncoarseness of the instruments we use, fail to render us certain that\nthe facts correspond exactly to the ideas. It is sometimes absolutely\nimpossible to establish this proof, since geometrical truth supposes\nconditions such as cannot be realized in practice.\n\n146. Let us apply these observations to the simplest truths of\ngeometry. Certainly no one will doubt the solidity of the proof called\nsuperposition: that is to say, if one of two lines, or surfaces, be\nplaced upon the other, and they exactly correspond, they will be equal.\nThis truth cannot depend upon experience: first, because experience\nis limited to a certain number of cases, whereas the proposition\nis general. To say that one serves for all is to say that there\nis a general principal, independent of experience, since, without\nrecognizing an intrinsic necessity in this truth, the universal could\nin no other way be deduced from the particular. Secondly, because even\nwhere experience avails, it is impossible for us to make it exact,\nsince superposition made in the most delicate manner imaginable, can\nnever attain to geometrical exactness, which repudiates the minutest\ndifference in any point.\n\nIt is an elementary theorem, that the three angles of a triangle are\nequal to two right angles. This truth does not rest upon experience:\nfirst, because the universal cannot be deduced from the particular;\nsecondly, because, however delicate be the instruments for measuring\nangles, they cannot measure them with geometrical exactness; thirdly,\nbecause geometry supposes conditions which we cannot realize in\npractice; lines have no thickness, and the vertices of angles are\nindivisible points.\n\n147. If general principles depended upon experience they would cease\nto be general, and would be limited to a certain number of cases.\nNeither would their enunciation be absolute, even for the cases\nalready observed; for it would of necessity be reduced to what had\nbeen observed, that is to say, to a little more or less, but never be\nperfect exactness. Consequently we could not assert that the three\nangles of every triangle are equal to two right angles; all that\nwe could say would be, that so far as our experience goes, we have\nobserved that in all triangles the three angles are very nearly equal\nto two right angles.\n\nThis would obviously destroy all necessary truths; and even\nmathematical truths would be no more certain than the reports of adepts\nin any profession who recount to us their observations concerning their\nrespective objects.\n\n148. There can be no science without necessary truths; and even the\ncognition of contingent truths would become exceedingly difficult\nwithout them. How do we collect the facts furnished by observation, and\nadjust them? Is it not by applying certain general truths to them, as,\nfor example, those of numeration? Otherwise we could have no perfect\nconfidence in them, nor in the results of observation.\n\n149. Human reason cannot live, if it abandon this treasure of necessary\ntruths which constitute its common patrimony. Individual reason could\ntake no more than a few short steps, overwhelmed as it constantly\nwould be with the mass of observations; distracted unceasingly by the\nverifications to which it would always have to recur; in want of some\nlight to serve for all objects; and prohibited ever from simplifying,\nby uniting the rays of science in a common centre.\n\nGeneral reason would also cease to be, and men would no longer\nunderstand each other: every one would be confined to his own\nexperience: and since there would be in the experiences of all men,\nnothing necessary, nothing to connect them, there would be no unity\nin them all together: all the sciences would be a field of confusion,\nto which all restoration of order would be utterly impossible. No\nlanguage could have been formed; or even if formed could be preserved.\nWe meet in the simplest enunciations of language, as well as in the\ncomplication of a long discourse, an abundance of general and necessary\ntruths, which serve as the woof for the weaving-in of contingent truths.\n\n150. To inquire, therefore, if there are necessary truths, is to\ninquire, if individual, if general reason exists; if what we call\nreason, and discover in all men, really exists, or is but a fantastical\nillusion. This reason does exist: to deny it is to deny ourselves: not\nto wish to admit it, is to reject the testimony of our consciousness,\nwhich assures us that it is in the depth of our soul; it is to make\nimpotent efforts to destroy a conviction irresistibly imposed by nature.\n\n151. And here I would remark that this community of reason among all\nmen of all ages and of all climes; this admirable unity, discoverable\nin the midst of so much variety; this fundamental accord which neither\nthe diversity nor the contradiction of views can destroy, evidently\nproves that all human souls have one common origin; that thought is not\na work of chance; that, besides human intelligences, there is another\nwhich serves as their support, illuminates them, and has, from the\nfirst moment of their existence, endowed them with all the faculties\nneeded to perceive, and to know what they perceived. The admirable\norder which reigns throughout the material world, the concert, the\nunity of plan discoverable in it, are not a more conclusive proof of\nthe existence of God, than are the order, the concert, the unity,\noffered by reason in its assent to necessary truths.\n\nFor our own part, we ingenuously confess, that we can discover no more\nsolid, more conclusive, or more clear proof of the existence of God,\nthan that deduced from the world of intelligences. Beyond this it has\nanother advantage, which is, that it takes for its point of departure\nthe act most immediate to us, the consciousness of our own acts. It is\ntrue, the proof best adapted to the capacity of ordinary men, is the\none founded on the admirable order reigning over the corporeal world:\nbut this is because they are unaccustomed to meditate upon insensible\nobjects, upon what passes within themselves; wherefore it is that they\nabound more in direct cognitions than in power of reflection.\n\nThe atheist asks how we can be certain of the existence of God, and\ndemands an apparition of the divinity: very well, this apparition\nexists, not without, but within us: and although it may be pardonable\nfor men of little reflection not to perceive it, most certainly it\nis not pardonable for those who pretend to be adepts in metaphysical\nscience, not even to endeavor to discover it. The system of\nMalebranche, which makes men see every thing in God, cannot be\nsustained, but it shows a very profound thinker.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXIV.\n\nEXISTENCE OF UNIVERSAL REASON.\n\n\n152. General truths have some relation to particular truths; for since\nthey are not a vain illusion, they must of necessity be connected with\nsome object either existing or possible. Whatever exists is particular;\nnot even possible being can be conceived of, if it be not, so to speak,\nparticularized in the regions of possibility. God himself, being by\nessence, is not a being in abstract, but an infinite reality. In him,\nthe general idea of the plenitude of being, of all perfection, of\ninfinity, is, so to speak, particularized.\n\nGeneral truths would then be vain illusions did they not refer to\nsomething particular either existing or possible. Without this\nrelation, cognition would be a purely subjective phenomenon; science\nwould have no object; knowledge would be had, but there would be\nnothing known.\n\nThe appearance of knowing is never offered to us as a purely subjective\nfact; that is to say, when we think we know, we think we know something\neither within or without us, according to the matters which occupy us.\nSupposing, then, the phenomenon of cognition to be purely subjective,\nand to become objective for itself, we should have what would\nconstantly lead us into error; for the human reason would be infected\nwith a radical vice, which would oblige it to view these phenomena as\nmeans of perceiving the truth, whereas they are only eternal sources of\ndeception.\n\n153. There may arise a doubt in this correspondence of general with\nparticular truth, as to which is the principle; that is, whether\ngeneral truth is truth by means of particular truths, or the contrary.\n\"All the diameters of a circle are equal;\" this is a general truth.\nIf we suppose a circle to exist, all its diameters will be equal. We\nhave already seen that the certainty of the general truth neither\ndoes nor can reach us through the particular truth; but neither, on\nthe other hand, does the particular stand in need of the general; so\nthat it seems, that even when we abstract all intelligence, capable of\nperceiving this general truth, the existing circle will not cease to\nhave all its diameters equal.\n\n154. Moreover, if the truth fail in one single instance, it cannot be\ngeneral; but the particular may be true although it fail in general.\nThe equality of the diameters of an existing circle is, then, a\ncondition necessary to the general truth; but the general truth is not\nnecessary to the equality of the diameters. It is true in general that\nall diameters are equal, since this is verified in all either existing\nor possible, and the general truth is only the expression of this\nverification; but yet it does not appear that the diameters, in any one\nparticular case, are equal by reason of the general truth. It is true\nthat one particular whole is greater than one of its parts, although\nconsidered in itself, abstracted from all general truth; but it would\nnot be true that the whole is greater than one of its parts, if in any\none particular whole, the axiom should fail.\n\n155. It would seem that from these observations we could infer that\nthe truth of principles depends upon the truth of facts, and not _vice\nversa_. Nevertheless, if we reflect more upon this matter, we shall\ndiscover that truth is not based upon particular facts, but upon\nsomething superior to them.\n\nI. We cannot from a particular fact infer a universal truth; but from\nuniversal truth we can infer the truth of all particular existing or\npossible facts. The reason why this consequence is legitimate is found\nin the necessary connection of the predicate and subject; and this\nnecessity cannot be discovered in particular facts of their own nature\ncontingent.\n\nII. Neither can the reason of this necessity be found in the simple\nproposition enunciating it, since this establishes nothing, but only\nexpresses. The enunciation is true, because it expresses the truth; but\nthe existence of the truth does not depend upon its enunciation.\n\nIII. Nor can it depend upon our ideas; for these are not productive of\nthings; all imaginable perceptions cannot change one iota of reality.\nThe idea may express a thing, but does not make it. The relation of\nideas with each other, in so far avails as it expresses the relation\nof objects; if for one moment we permit ourselves to doubt this\ncorrespondence, our reason becomes reduced to utter impotence, to a\nvain illusion of that which ought to be of no account. The properties\nof the triangle are contained in the idea we have of it; but if this\nidea were purely subjective, if it had no exact or approximate relation\nto any real or possible object, it and all that is built upon it, would\nbe mere phenomena of our mind, would signify absolutely nothing, and\nwould have no more weight than the ravings of a madman.\n\nIV. The reason of necessary truths can in nowise be discovered in our\nunderstanding; every one perceives them, without thinking of others or\neven of himself. Truth existed before any individual; and when we shall\nhave disappeared, it will continue the same, it will lose nothing.\n\nV. All men, although they neither do nor can agree, perceive certain\nnecessary truths; all individual intelligences, therefore, have drunk\nat some common fountain; therefore universal reason exists.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXV.\n\nIN WHAT DOES UNIVERSAL REASON CONSIST?\n\n\n156. What is universal reason? If we consider it as a simple idea, as\nan abstraction from individual reason, as something separate from them,\nbut not real, we strike upon the very rock we try to shun. We endeavor\nto assign a cause of the unity of human reason; and appeal to universal\nreason; and then to explain in what universal reason consists, we recur\nto an abstraction from individual reason. Evidently, this is a vicious\ncircle; we place the cause of a fact so fruitful in an abstraction, in\na generalization of the very thing we have to explain; we assign to a\ngreat effect a cause totally insufficient, which has no existence out\nof our understanding, and which only grows out of the very effect whose\norigin we are investigating.\n\n157. A real fact must have a real principle; a universal phenomenon\nmust have a universal cause; a phenomenon independent of all finite\nintelligence must spring from some cause independent of all finite\nintelligence. There is, then, a universal reason, the origin of all\nfinite reason, the source of all truth, the light of all intelligences,\nthe bond of all beings. There is, then, above all phenomena, above\nall finite individuals, a being, in which is found the reason of all\nbeings, a great unity, in which is found the bond of all order, and of\nall the community of other beings.\n\nThe unity, therefore, of all human reason affords a complete\ndemonstration of the existence of God. The universal reason is; but\nuniversal reason is an unmeaning word, unless it denote an intelligent,\nactive being, a being by essence, the producer of all beings, of all\nintelligences, the cause of all, and the light of all.\n\n158. _Impersonal reason_, of which some philosophers speak, is an\nunmeaning word. Either there exists a reason distinct from ours, or\nthere does not: if it does exist, it is not impersonal; if it does not\nexist, it is impossible to explain the community of human reason: this\ncommunity would be to us a phenomenon, which we might call impersonal\nreason, or any thing else we pleased, without it therefore being\npossible for us to assign it any origin: it would be an effect without\na cause; a fact without a sufficient reason.\n\n159. The understanding extends to a world of possibilities, and there\ndiscovers a connection of necessary relations, some of dependence,\nothers of contradiction: but if there were no reality whereon to found\nthe possibility, this would be an absurdity; if nothing existed,\nnothing would be possible.\n\nUpon nothing, nothing can be founded; consequently, not even\npossibility. The connection of necessary relations which we discover in\npossible beings, must have a primitive type to which they refer: but in\nnothing there are no types.\n\n160. The assemblage of human understandings cannot establish\npossibility. No one of them considered isolately is necessary to\ngeneral truth; and all together cannot have what no one of them has.\nWe conceive necessary truth, absolutely abstracted from the human\nunderstanding: individual understandings appear and disappear, but work\nno change in the relations of possible beings: on the contrary, the\nunderstanding needs, in order to exercise its functions, a collection\nof pre-existing truths, and without them it cannot work.\n\nWhat any one individual understanding requires, all require. Their\nunion does not increase the strength of each one: since this\nunion is nothing more than an assemblage formed in our mind, and\nmay not correspond to any thing in reality except the individual\nunderstandings, and their respective strength.\n\n161. Necessary truths, therefore, exist before human reason; but their\npre-existence is an unmeaning word, if they be not referred to a being,\nthe origin of all reality, and the foundation of all possibility. There\nis then no impersonal reason properly so called; there is a community\nof reason in so far as one and the same light illumines all finite\nintelligences; God the creator of them all.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXVI.\n\nREMARKS ON THE REAL FOUNDATION OF PURE POSSIBILITY.\n\n\n162. Since the argument proving the necessity of a being in which is\nlaid the foundation of all the relations in the possible order, is one\nof the most transcendental in all metaphysics, and at the same time one\nof the most difficult to be perfectly understood, we judge it advisable\nto enlarge somewhat upon the considerations thrown out in the preceding\nchapter.\n\nAn example, in which we undertake to establish the possibility of\nthings, independently of a being in which is found the reason of all,\nwill serve our purpose better than abstract reflections.\n\n163. \"Two circles of equal diameters are equal.\" This proposition is\nevidently true. Let us analyze its meaning. The proposition refers\nto the possible order, and abstracts absolutely the existence of the\ncircles and of the diameters. No case is excepted; all are comprised in\nthe proposition.\n\n164. Neither does the truth refer to our mode of understanding; but on\nthe contrary, we conceive it as independent of our thought. Were we\nasked, what would become of this truth were we not to exist, we should\nwithout hesitation reply that it would be the same, that it acquired\nnothing by our existence, that it would lose nothing by our extinction.\nIf we believed this truth to depend in any way upon us, it would cease\nto be what it is, it would no longer be a necessary but a contingent\ntruth.\n\n165. Nor is the corporeal world indispensable to the truth and\nnecessity of the proposition: on the contrary, if we suppose no body\nto exist, the proposition would lose none of its truth, necessity, or\nuniversality.\n\n166. What would happen, if, withdrawing all bodies, all sensible\nrepresentations, and even all intelligences, we should imagine absolute\nand universal nothing? We see the truth of the proposition even on this\nsupposition; for it is impossible for us to hold it to be false. On\nevery supposition, our understanding sees a connection which it cannot\ndestroy: the condition once established, the result will infallibly\nfollow.\n\n167. An absolutely necessary connection, founded neither on us, nor\non the external world, which exists before any thing we can imagine,\nand subsists after we have annihilated all by an effort of our\nunderstanding, must be based upon something, it cannot have nothing for\nits origin: to say this, would be to assert a necessary fact without a\nsufficient reason.\n\n168. It is true that in the proposition now before us, nothing real is\naffirmed; but if we reflect carefully, we find even here the greatest\ndifficulty for those who deny a real foundation to pure possibility.\nWhat is remarkable in this phenomenon, is precisely this, that our\nunderstanding feels itself forced to give its assent to a proposition\nwhich affirms an absolutely necessary connection without any relation\nto an existing object. It is conceivable that an intelligence affected\nby other beings may know their nature and relations; but it is not so\neasy of comprehension how it can discover their nature and relations in\nan absolutely necessary manner, when it abstracts all existence, when\nthe ground upon which the eyes of the understanding are fixed, is the\nabyss of nothing.\n\n169. We deceive ourselves when we imagine it possible to abstract\nall existence. Even when we suppose our mind to have lost sight of\nevery thing, a very easy supposition, granting that we find in our\nconsciousness the contingency of our being, the understanding still\nperceives a possible order, and imagines it to be all occupied with\npure possibility, independent of a being on which it is based. We\nrepeat, that this is an illusion, which disappears so soon as we\nreflect upon it. In pure nothing, nothing is possible; there are\nno relations, no connections of any kind; in nothing there are no\ncombinations, it is a ground upon which nothing can be pictured.\n\n170. The objectivity of our ideas and the perception of necessary\nrelations in a possible order, reveal a communication of our\nunderstanding with a being on which is founded all possibility. This\npossibility can be explained on no supposition except that which makes\nthe communication consist in the action of God giving to our mind\nfaculties perceptive of the necessary relation of certain ideas, based\nupon necessary being, and representative of his infinite essence.\n\n171. Without this communication the order of pure possibility means\nnothing: none of the combinations referable to it contain any truth:\nand this ruins all science. There can be no necessary relations if\nthere be no necessity upon which they are based, and where they are\nrepresented; if this condition be wanting, all cognitions must refer to\nsomething actually existing; they are even limited to what _appears_,\nto what affects us, and they cannot affirm any thing beyond the actual\norder. Science, in this supposition, is unworthy of the name; it is\nnothing but a collection of facts, gathered together in the field of\nexperience; we cannot say: \"This will be, or will not be; this may be,\nor may not be;\" we are necessarily limited to what is; or, rather,\nwe ought to confine ourselves to that which affects us by simple\nappearances, and never be able to rise above the sphere of individual\nphenomena.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXVII.\n\nINDIVIDUAL AND INTELLECTUAL PHENOMENA EXPLAINED BY THE UNIVERSAL\nSUBSISTING REASON.\n\n\n172. Starting from the phenomena observable in individual reason,\nwe have arrived at universal reason. Let us, so to speak, make the\ncounterproof; taking this universal subsisting reason, let us see if\nindividual reason in itself and in its phenomena can be explained by it.\n\nI. What are necessary truths? They are the relations of beings, such\nas they are represented in the being which contains the plenitude of\nbeing. These necessary truths, then, stand in need of no individual\nfinite reason; their reason is found in an infinite being.\n\nII. The essence of all beings, abstracted from all particular beings,\nis something real, not in itself, and separately, but in the being\nwhich contains the plenitude of every thing.\n\nIII. On this supposition science is not full of empty words, nor of\nmere creations of our reason, but of necessary relations represented in\na necessary being, and known by it from all eternity.\n\nIV. Science is possible; there is some necessity in contingent objects;\ntheir destruction does not destroy the eternal types of all being, the\nonly object of science.\n\nV. All individual reason, sprung from the same source, participates in\none same light, lives one same life, has one and the same patrimony, is\nindivisible in the creative principle, but divisible in creatures. The\nunity, then, or rather the uniformity or community of human reason is\npossible, is necessary.\n\nVI. The reason, then, of all men is united by the infinite\nintelligence: God then is in us; and the most profound philosophical\ntruth is contained in these words of the Apostle: \"In ipso vivimus,\nmovemur, et sumus.\"\n\nVII. All philosophy, therefore, which seeks to explain reason, by\nisolating it, considers only particular phenomena unconnected by a\ngeneral bond, pretends to construct the magnificent fabric of our\nreason upon particular facts alone, but does not appeal to a common\norigin, to one source of light whence all lights have sprung, is\na false philosophy, is superficial, at war with theory, and in\ncontradiction with facts. When we reflect upon this, we can but pity\nLocke, and still more Condillac, and their explanations of human reason\nby sensations alone.\n\nVIII. Thus we understand why we cannot give the reason of many things;\nwe see them; they are thus: they are necessary; more we cannot say. A\ntriangle is not a circle: what reason can we assign for this? None!\nIt is so; this is all. But why? Because there does actually exist an\nimmediate necessity in the relation represented in the infinite being,\nwhich is truth by essence. The same infinite intelligence sees no\ngreater reason of itself, than in itself. It finds every thing, and\nthe relations of all things in the plenitude of its being; but beyond\nthem is nothing. He gave to individual reason, when creating it, an\nintuition of these relations: no discursion proves them; we see them;\nthis is all.\n\nIX. Some even who admit the subjective value of ideas, either doubting\nor denying their objectivity, lose sight of this fact. They seek an\nargument, where there is need only of a vision; they demand degrees\nwhere there are none. When human reason sees certain truths, it\ncannot go farther and doubt of them. It is subject to a primitive\nlaw of its nature, which it cannot abstract without ceasing to be\nwhat it is. By the very act of seeing the object it is sure of it;\nthe difference between subjectivity and objectivity falls within the\nspace of inferences, but not within that of immediate reason, or the\nunderstanding of necessary truths.\n\n173. We leave it to the reader's judgment whether the preceding\nexplanation is more satisfactory than that by _impersonal reason_;\nthe theory we have attempted to expound has been held by all the most\neminent metaphysicians. With God, all is clear; without God, all is\na chaos. This is true in the order of facts, and not less so in the\norder of ideas. Our perception is also a fact; our ideas likewise are\nfacts; over all presides an admirable order; a chain which cannot be\ndestroyed unites all; but neither this order nor this chain depends\nupon this. The word _reason_ has a profound meaning, for it refers\nto the infinite intelligence. What is true for the reason of one man\ncannot be false for the reason of another; there are, independently\nof all communication among human minds, and of all intuition, truths\nnecessary for all. We must, if we would explain this unity, rise above\nourselves, must elevate ourselves to that great unity in which every\nthing originates, and to which every thing tends.\n\n174. This point of view is high, but it is the only one; if we depart\nfrom it we can see nothing, but are forced to use unmeaning words.\nSublime and consoling thought! Although man disputes upon God, and\nperhaps denies him, he has God in his understanding, in his ideas,\nin all that he is, in all that he thinks; the power of perception\ncommunicates God to him; objective truth is founded on God; he cannot\naffirm a single truth without affirming a thing represented in God.\nThis intimate communication of the finite with the infinite, is one\nof the most certain truths of metaphysics. Although ideological\ninvestigations should produce no other result than the discovery of\nso important a truth, we ought to consider the time spent in them well\nimproved.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXVIII.\n\nOBSERVATIONS ON THE RELATION OF LANGUAGE TO IDEAS.\n\n\n175. The relation between thought and language is one of the most\nimportant ideological phenomena. When we speak we think; and when we\nthink we speak with an internal language. The understanding needs\nspeech as a kind of guiding thread in the labyrinth of ideas.\n\n176. The connection of ideas by a sign seems necessary. The most\nuniversal and most convenient of these signs is language; but we must\nnot forget that it is an arbitrary sign, as is proved by the variety of\nwords used in different languages to express the same idea.\n\n177. The phenomenon of the relation of ideas to language originates\nin the necessity of perpetuating ideas by determinate signs; and the\nimportance of speech results from its being the most general, most\nconvenient, and most flexible sign. And hence it is that when these\ncircumstances can be united in another sign, the same object is\nattained. Physically speaking, written language is very different from\nlanguage spoken; nevertheless, in very many cases it answers equally\nwell.\n\n178. The internal language is, sometimes, rather a reflection in which\nthe idea is enlarged and developed, than an expression of it. True,\nwe do not ordinarily think without speaking inwardly; but as we have\nalready observed, speech is an arbitrary sign, and consequently we\ncannot establish a perfectly exact parallel between ideas and the\ninternal language.\n\n179. We think with instantaneousness, which defies the succession of\nwords, however rapid we may suppose them to be. It is true that the\ninternal language is far more rapid than the external; but it always\ninvolves succession, and requires a greater or less time, according to\nthe words to be spoken.\n\nThis observation is important, lest we too greatly exaggerate the\nrelation of ideas to speech. Language is certainly a wonderful channel\nfor the communication of ideas, and a powerful auxiliary of our\nunderstanding; but we can, without ignoring these qualities, take\ncare to avoid that exaggeration which seems to pronounce all thought\nimpossible, if some word thought does not correspond to it.\n\n180. We experience often enough the instantaneous occurrence of a\nmultitude of ideas, which we afterwards develop in our discourse.\nWe see this in those quick and lively replies excited by a word, or\na gesture, which contradicts our opinions or wounds our feelings.\nIn replying, it is impossible for us to speak inwardly, since the\ninstantaneousness with which we reply forbids it. How often, in\nlistening to an argument, do we instantly detect a fault, which we\ncould not explain with words without a long discourse? How often, in\nproposing a difficulty to ourselves, do we catch its solution in an\ninstant, although we could not possibly explain it without many words?\nHow often do we at the very first glance discover the flaw in a proof,\nthe force of an argument, or the ease with which it can be retorted\nupon the proposer of it, and all this without occupying a moiety of\nthe intervals necessary to either external or internal locution? Thus\nit happens that the sudden thought is not unfrequently expressed by a\nsingle gesture, a glance of the eye, a nod of the head, a _yes_, or a\n_no_, an exclamation, or any other similar sign; all far more rapid\nthan it is possible for the words expressive of our thought to be.\n\n181. Let us illustrate this observation by a few examples. Some one\nsays: \"All men are naturally equal.\" The sense of this proposition\ncannot be known until the word _equal_ is pronounced. How, then, is it\nthat an enlightened and judicious man, will, by an instinctive impulse,\nanswer _no_, will catch the word at the moment, and refute the empty\nboast of the declaimer with a flow of reasons? Until after the word,\nnaturally the understanding remained in suspense; there was nothing\nto show the meaning of the proposition, since instead of _equal_,\nmight have been said _weak_, _mortal_, _inconstant_, or any other such\nword; but so soon as the word _equal_ is pronounced, the understanding\nsays _no_, without having had the time to use an internal or external\nlocution. The exact parallel which some suppose to exist between ideas\nand speech is, therefore, impossible; and they who defend it are guilty\nof an exaggeration incompatible with experience.\n\nAnother asserts, \"justice to have no bounds but the limit of power.\"\nAll who have any idea of morality, at once answer _no_: do they,\nforsooth, need an inward locution? True, in order to explain what is\nexpressed by this _no_, and upon what it is based, many words are\nrequired, and that to reflect upon the proposition one must speak\nin inwardly; but this is all independent of that intellectual act,\nsignified by the _no_, and which would have been still more briefly\nexpressed had it been possible.\n\nAnother yet may say: \"If this fact be attested by the senses, it\nwill be true; and if it be true, it will be attested by the senses.\"\nThe hearer assents to the former part, but rests in suspense as\nto the latter part until the word _attest_ is pronounced. Then an\ninstantaneous _no_ leaps from his lips, or is expressed by a negative\ngesture. Does any interior locution precede? None, for none is\npossible. The following would be the words expressive of this act: \"It\nis not true that every fact must be attested by the senses; since many\nfacts are true, which do not belong to the sphere of sensibility.\"\nLet us examine whether or not these words are compatible with the\ninstantaneousness of the _no_.\n\n182. It will, perhaps, be objected, that the negation is one thing,\nand the reason of the negation another: that the simple _no_ suffices\nfor the former, and that it is only for the latter that more words are\nneeded. But this is an equivocation. When the _no_ was said, it was\nsaid for a reason, and this reason was the sight of the inconsequence\nthen expressed by the words. Otherwise it would be necessary to admit\nthe negative to be a blind judgment, and given without a reason. This\nbeing so, this reason founded upon the judgment, although expressed in\nthe most laconical mode possible, would require some words, to form\nwhich, either interiorly or exteriorly, there has been no time. There\nis a question of calculation. He who hears the proposition cannot know\nthe meaning of it, until the word _attest_ is pronounced, and the\nsentence brought to a _full stop_. Before reaching the word attest,\nthe sense of the proposition was unknown; it was not possible to form\nany judgment, since instead of saying, \"If it be true the senses will\nattest it,\" he might have said, \"If it be true the senses _will not\nbelie it_.\"\n\nWe have spoken of the _full stop_, in order to show the\ninstantaneousness of the perception and of the judgment, which proves\nthat the understanding does not determine until the last moment. But\nlet us suppose the same word _attest_ to have been used indeed, but\ninstead of a full stop, to have been followed by these other words, \"if\nthis fact falls under their jurisdiction.\" The words are the same, and\nyet they do not provoke a negative judgment; and why? Simply because\nthe speaker continued. If he had ceased speaking, or had used an\ninflection of voice indicative of a period, the _no_ would have risen\nlike a flash. A comma or a period in writing, produce the same effect\nas a pause or an inflection of the voice in speaking. When we see these\nsigns, we judge instantaneously, with a velocity incomparably greater\nthan any internal or external locution.\n\nIt would be easy to multiply examples showing the superiority of\nthought to speech, so far as rapidity is concerned; but those already\nadduced seem to us sufficient to prove that there is some exaggeration\nin saying that \"man before speaking his thought, thinks his words,\" if\nit be understood that all thought is impossible without a word thought.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXIX.\n\nORIGIN AND CHARACTER OF THE RELATION BETWEEN LANGUAGE AND IDEAS.\n\n\n183. Many ideas seem to be like sensations and sentiments; simple\nfacts, incapable of decomposition, for which reason we cannot explain\nthem with words. Words illustrate ideas; but do they not sometimes also\nconfuse them? When we speak of an idea, we reflect upon it, and I have\nalready remarked[11] that the reflective force of our perceptive ideas\nis much inferior to their direct force.\n\n[11] See Book I., Chs. III. and XXIII.\n\n184. We have sometimes thought that we do, perhaps, know things which\nwe imagine we do not know, and that we are ignorant of things we think\nwe know. It is certain that disputes have been had in all schools of\nphilosophy upon many ideas, without attaining any satisfactory result;\nand yet these ideas ought to be sufficiently clear to our mind, since\nwe all use them every day without any equivocation. Philosophers have\nnot, as yet, been able to agree upon the ideas of space and time, but\nthe most ignorant men, nevertheless, make use of these words, and\nwhenever the necessity occurs, apply them with exactness. This seems to\nprove that the difficulty is not in the idea but in its explanation.\n\n185. It has been remarked that there is great truth and exactness in\nordinary language, so much so, that the careful observer is astonished\nat the recondite wisdom hidden in a language; to see how great, how\nvarious, and how delicate are the gradations into which the sense of\nwords is distributed. This is not the fruit of reflection; it is the\nwork of reason operating directly, and consequently making use of ideas\nwithout reflecting upon them.\n\n186. In ideological investigations some idea of the idea is sought,\nand it is not noted that if this be necessary to science, another idea\nof the other idea may be exacted, and that thus an infinite process\nmay be given. It ought to be borne in mind that in treating of simple\nfacts, as well external as internal, no other explanation of them can\nbe demanded than an exposition.\n\n187. _Idea-images_ are a font of error, and probably all ideas\nexplicable by words are not less so. An _idea-image_ induces the belief\nthat there are in our mind no ideas but sensible representations, and\nthe supposition that every idea can be expressed by words, makes us\nimagine that to be composite which is simple, and attribute to the\nsubstance what belongs to the form.\n\n188. A composite idea seems to be a union, or rather a connected series\nof ideas, which are either excited simultaneously, or follow each other\nwith great rapidity. Our understanding requires words to bind this\ncollection, to retain the thread which connects them; and hence it is,\nthat when the idea is simple, language is not indispensable. It is said\nthat speech is necessary in order to think, it might sometimes be said\nwith more propriety, that it is necessary in order to _recollect_.\n\n189. When the object occupying our attention is offered to the sensible\nintuition, we have no need of speech. We can, when we reflect upon\na right line, an angle, a triangle, observe that their imaginary\nrepresentation is all that we require, and that we do not need to bind\nthese objects together by words. The same thing happens in thinking\nof unity, or on the numbers two, three, and four, which we easily\nrepresent to ourselves sensibly. The necessity for speech begins when\nthe imagination loses the distinct representation of objects, and needs\nto combine various ideas. Did we not assign to a word the idea of a\nmany-sided polygon, we should be in the greatest confusion, and it\nwould be impossible for us to reason upon it.\n\n190. Since, on the one hand, our perceptive faculties do not create\ntheir objects, but are limited to the combining of them; and, on the\nother hand, our perception is not capable of embracing many at one\ntime, it results that the exercise of our faculties is necessarily\nsuccessive; the unity of consciousness serving as the bond of union\nto our perceptions. But consciousness has no other means of knowing\nwhat passes within it, than to fix its operations by determinate\nsigns, whence flows the necessity of arbitrary signs, which must be\nsensible, by reason of the relation uniting our intelligence with the\nsensitive faculties: and it is to be observed, that for this reason,\nevery sign to which we assign an idea, may be the object of one of the\nsenses. The great number and variety of ideas and their combinations,\nrequire an exceedingly variable and flexible sign, and this variety\nand flexibility require certain characters to simplify it, and thus\nrender its retention in the memory more easy, whence the advantages\nof language: in the midst of its astonishing variety it lays these\ncharacters in radical syllables. The conjugation of a single verb\nalone offers us a considerable number of very different ideas, the\nretention of which would be excessively difficult, were they not joined\nby some tie such as the radical syllable: as in the verb to speak, the\nsyllable speak. We see this by the greater labor the irregular verbs\ncost us than do the regular verbs when learning a language: and it may\nbe remarked in children also, who blunder on the irregularities. We\nmight compare language to the catalogue of a library, which is the more\nperfect, the more it unites simplicity with variety, so as to designate\nexactly the classes of the books and the shelves whereon they are to be\nfound.\n\n191. _Succession of ideas and operations_; here, then, originates the\nnecessity of a sign by which to connect and recollect them: _relation\nof our understanding with the sensitive faculties_, is the reason\nwhy the signs must be sensible; _variety and simplicity of language_\nconstitutes its merit so far as the sign of ideas.[12]\n\n[12] See Bk. I., Ch. XXVI.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXX.\n\nINNATE IDEAS.\n\n\n192. Among the adversaries of innate ideas there exist profound\ndifferences. The materialists maintain that man has received every\nthing through the senses, in such a way as to make our understanding\nnothing more than the product of an organism which has been advancing\nin perfection, just as a machine acquires, by use, a greater facility\nand delicacy of movement. They suppose nothing but the faculty of\nsensation to pre-exist in the mind; or, to speak more correctly, they\nadmit no mind, but only a corporeal being, whose functions naturally\nproduce what is called the intellectual development.\n\nThe sensists who do not attribute to matter the faculty of thinking,\ndo not admit innate ideas; they confess the existence of the mind, but\nconcede to it non-sensitive faculties; all that it owns must have come\nto it through the senses, and it can be nothing else than a transformed\nsensation.\n\nInnate ideas counted other adversaries who were neither materialists\nnor sensists: such were the scholastics, who on the one hand defended\nthe principle that there is nothing in the understanding which has not\npreviously been in the senses; but, on the other hand, combated both\nmaterialism and sensism. The difference between the scholastics and the\nfriends of innate ideas would not perhaps have been so great as it was\nsupposed to be, had the question been proposed in another manner.\n\n193. The scholastics regarded ideas as accidental forms, in such a\nway that an understanding with ideas may be compared to a piece of\ncanvas covered with figures. The defenders of innate ideas said; \"The\nfigures already exist upon the canvas; to see them we have only to\nraise the veil which covers them.\" This explanation is somewhat forced,\nsince it openly contradicts experience, which testifies: first, the\nnecessity of the understanding being excited by sensations; secondly,\nthe intellectual elaboration which we experience in thinking, and which\nteaches us that there is within us a kind of production of ideas.\n\n\"The canvas,\" say the adversaries of innate ideas, is all white, \"and\nin proof witness the unceasing labor of the artist to cover it with\nfigures.\" But does their doctrine, forsooth, suppose that nothing\nexists before experience? Do they admit man to be the simple work of\ninstruction, of education? Do they maintain that our interior world is\nnothing more than a series of phenomena caused by impressions, and that\nit would have been other than what it is, had it had other impressions?\nMost certainly not. They admit: first, an inward activity excited and\nimproved by sensible experience: secondly, the necessity of first\nprinciples as well intellectual as moral: thirdly, an interior light,\nto enable us to see them when presented, and to assent to them by an\nirresistible necessity. We find the words, \"Signatum est super nos\nlumen vultus tui Domine,\" cited upon every page of those authors.\n\n194. Saint Thomas says that first principles, as well speculative\nas practical, must be naturally communicated to us: \"Oportet igitur\n_naturaliter nobis esse indita_, sicut principia speculabilium, ita\net principia operabilium.\"[13] In another place, inquiring whether the\nsoul knows immaterial things in their eternal reasons, (in rationibus\n\u00e6ternis,) he says that the intellectual light which is within us, is\nnothing else than a certain participated likeness of the uncreated\nlife, in which the eternal reasons are contained: \"Ipsum enim lumen\nintellectuale, quod est in nobis nihil est aliud, quam qu\u00e6dam\nparticipata similitudo luminis increati, in quo continentur rationes\n\u00e6tern\u00e6.\"[14]\n\n[13] P. I., Q. L. XXIX. A. 12.\n\n[14] _Ib.,_ Q. L. XXXIV. A. 5.\n\n195. We find it, in these passages, expressly taught that there is\nwithin us something besides what we have acquired by experience, in\nwhich point the scholastics all agree with the defenders of innate\nideas. The difference between them is this: the former do not consider\nthe intellectual light to suffice for knowledge, if the forms or\n_species_ upon which it may reflect are wanting; the latter distinguish\nthe light from the colors, and them they make originate in the light\nitself.\n\n196. The question of innate ideas, so warmly contested in the schools\nof philosophy, would never have presented so great difficulties, had\nit been stated with proper clearness. To do this it was necessary to\nclassify the inward phenomena called ideas in a corresponding manner,\nand to determine with accuracy the sense of the word _innate_.\n\n197. According to what we have already said, we hold that there are\nin our mind sensible representations; intellectual action upon them,\nor geometrical ideas; ideas purely intellectual, either intuitive or\nnon-intuitive; and general determinate and indeterminate ideas. I will\ngive examples of these cases that they may the better be understood.\nA particular triangle is represented in our imagination; here, then,\nis a sensible representation: intellectual act perceiving the nature\nof the triangle considered in general; here is a geometrical idea, an\nidea relating to the sensible order: cognition of one of our acts of\nunderstanding or will; here is a pure and intuitive idea: intelligence,\nwill, conceived in general; here is a general determinate idea:\nsubstance; here finally is a general indeterminate idea.[15]\n\n[15] See Chs. XII. and XIII.\n\n198. What is understood by innate? That which is not born, which the\nmind possesses, not acquired by its own labor, nor by impressions\ncoming from the exterior, but by the immediate gift of the author of\nits nature; the innate is opposed to the acquired, and to inquire if\nthere are innate ideas is to inquire if we have in our mind ideas,\nbefore receiving any impressions or doing any act.\n\n199. It cannot be maintained that sensible representations are innate.\nExperience testifies that without the impressions of the organs we\ncannot have representations corresponding to them; that once these\nare placed in action in a proper manner, we cannot help experiencing\nthem. This is applicable to all sensations, whether they be actual,\nexisting, or only recollected. They who undertake to maintain that\nsensible representations exist in our soul previously to all organic\nimpressions, also advance an opinion unsustainable either by facts of\nexperience or by arguments _a priori_.\n\n200. It is to be remarked, that the argument founded upon the\nimpossibility of the body's transmitting impressions to the mind,\nproves nothing in favor of the opinion we combat. Even were the\nargument conclusive, the necessity of innate ideas could not thence be\ninferred, since the physical non-communication of the body and the mind\nwould be saved in the system of occasional causes, and it could at the\nsame time be argued that there are no pre-existing ideas, but that they\nhave been caused in the presence, and on occasion of organic affections.\n\n201. Ideas relative to sensible representations seem to consist, not in\nforms of the understanding, but in its acts exercised upon these same\nrepresentations.[16]\n\n[16] See Ch. XX.\n\nTo call these ideas innate is to contradict experience, and even to\nignore their nature. These acts cannot be performed if the object,\nwhich is the sensible representation be wanting; and this does not\nexist without an impression of the corporeal organs. To call these\nideas innate, has then, either no meaning at all, or can mean nothing\nelse than the pre-existence of the intellectual activity, subsequently\ndeveloped in the presence of sensible intuitions.\n\n202. Neither can those intuitive ideas, not referable to sensibility,\nsuch as are those we have when reflecting upon the acts of\nunderstanding and will, be innate. What in this case serves as the\nidea, is the very same act of the understanding or of the will which is\npresented to our perception in consciousness: to say, then, that these\nideas are innate is equivalent to saying that these acts exist before\nthey exist. Even when the perception does not refer to present acts,\nbut to past acts now recollected, the argument retains the same force:\nfor it can have no recollection of them if they have not previously\nexisted, since our acts cannot exist before we have performed them.\n\n203. Hence it may be inferred that no intuitive idea is innate, since\nintuition supposes an object presented to the faculty of perception.\n\n204. General determinate ideas are those which refer to an intuition:\nthey cannot, therefore, exist before it: and since, on the other hand,\nintuition is impossible without an act, it follows that these ideas\ncannot be innate.\n\n205. Last of all remain general indeterminate ideas, that is to say,\nthose which of themselves alone offer to the mind, nothing either\nexisting or possible.[17] If we observe carefully the nature of these\nideas, we shall see that they are nothing else than perceptions of\none aspect of an object considered under a general reason. It cannot\nbe doubted, that one of the characteristics of intelligence is the\nperception of these aspects; and it is no less indubitable, that it\ndoes not thence follow, that we must imagine these ideas to a kind of\nforms pre-existing in our mind, and distinct from the acts by which it\nexercises its perceptive faculty. We do not see what ground there can\nbe for affirming these ideas to be innate, and to have lain hidden\nin our mind previously to the development of all activity, just like\nthings stowed away in the corners of a museum, closed however to the\ncuriosity of spectators.\n\n[17] See Ch. XXI.\n\n206. Instead of abandoning ourselves to similar suppositions, it would\nseem that we ought to recognize in the mind an innate activity, subject\nto the laws imposed upon it by its Creator, the infinite intelligence.\nEven granting ideas to be distinct from perceptive acts, it is not\nnecessary to admit them as pre-existing. True, that in such a case it\nwould be necessary to recognize in the mind a faculty productive of\nthe representative species, from which, however, we should not escape\nby identifying ideas with perceptions. These last are acts springing,\nso to speak, from the very bottom of our soul, and which appear and\ndisappear like the flowers of a plant: and thus we must in every way\nrecognize in ourselves a power which in due circumstances will not fail\nto produce what before did not exist. Without this it is impossible to\nform any idea of what activity is.\n\n207. Resuming the doctrine thus far delivered upon innate ideas, we can\nreduce it to a formula in the following manner:\n\nI. There are in us sensitive faculties which are developed by organic\nimpressions, either as cause or occasion.\n\nII. We perceive nothing by the senses not subject to the laws of\norganism.\n\nIII. Internal sensible representations cannot be formed of other\nelements than those furnished by sensations.\n\nIV. Whatever is said concerning the pre-existence of sensible\nrepresentations to organic impressions, besides being said without any\nreason, is in contradiction with experience.\n\nV. Geometrical ideas, or ideas relating to sensible intuitions, are not\ninnate; since they are the acts of the understanding which operates\nupon materials provided by the sensibility.\n\nVI. Intuitive ideas of the intellectual order are not innate, because\nthey are nothing else than the acts of the understanding or will,\npresented to our perception in reflex consciousness.\n\nVII. General determinate ideas are not innate, since they are the\nrepresentation of intuitions, upon which some act has of necessity been\nperformed.\n\nVIII. There is no ground of affirming that general indeterminate ideas,\nwhich seem to be acts of the faculty perceptive of objects under a\ngeneral reason, are innate.\n\nIX. All that there is of innate in our mind is sensitive and\nintellectual activity; but both to be put into motion, require objects\nto affect them.\n\nX. The development of this activity begins with organic affections;\nand although it goes far beyond the sphere of sensibility, it always\nremains more or less subject to the conditions imposed by the union of\nthe soul and body.\n\nXI. The intellectual activity has _a priori_ conditions totally\nindependent of sensibility, and applicable to all objects, no\nmatter what impressions may have been their cause. The principle of\ncontradiction figures as the first among these conditions.\n\nXII. There is then in our mind something _a priori_ and absolute, which\ncannot be altered, even although all the impressions we receive from\nobjects be totally varied, nor if all the relations we have with them\nwere to undergo a radical change.\n\n\n\n\nBOOK FIFTH.\n\nIDEA OF BEING.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I.\n\nIDEA OF BEING.\n\n\n1. There is in our understanding the idea of being. Independent of\nsensations, and in an order far superior to them, there exist ideas in\nour understanding, which extend to, and are a necessary element of all\nthought. The idea of being, or of _ens_, holds the first rank among\nthese. When the scholastics said that the object of the understanding\nwas being, \"objectum intellectus est ens,\" they enunciated a profound\ntruth, and pointed out one of the most certain and important of all\nideological facts.\n\n2. Being, or ens in se, abstracted from all modification and\ndetermination, is, considered in its greatest generality, conceived by\nour understanding. Whatever may be the origin of this idea, or the mode\nof its formation in our understanding, certain it is that it exists.\nIt is of continual application, and without it it is almost impossible\nfor us to think. The verb _to be_, expressive of this idea, is found in\nevery language: in every discourse, even in the simplest, we meet this\nexpression: the learned and the ignorant, alike, continually employ it\nin the same sense, and with equal facility.\n\nThe only difference, as to the use of this idea, between the rustic\nand the philosopher, is, that the one does, the other does not, reflect\nupon it: but the direct perception is the same in both, equally clear\nin all cases. Such a thing is or is not; was or was not; will be or\nwill not be; there is something or nothing; we had or did not have;\nwe shall have or shall not have, are all applications of the idea\nof being, applications made alike by all persons, without the least\nshadow of obscurity; all comprehend perfectly well the sense of these\nwords, and the mind consequently has the idea corresponding to them.\nThe difficulty, if any there be, begins with the reflex act, in the\nperception, not of being, but of the idea of being. So far as the\ndirect act is concerned, the conception is so perfectly clear as to\nleave nothing to be desired.\n\n3. Experience teaches this, but it can also be proved by conclusive\narguments. All philosophers agree that the principle of contradiction\nis evident of itself to all men, that it needs no application, to\nunderstand the sense of the words sufficing; which could not be true\ndid not all men have the idea of being. The principle is, that \"it is\nimpossible for a thing _to be_, and _not to be_ at same time.\" Here,\nthen, is no question of any thing determinate; neither of body nor\nof mind, of substance nor of accidents, of infinite nor of finite,\nbut of being, of a _thing_, whatever it may be, in its greatest\ngenerality; of which it is affirmed that it cannot both be and not\nbe at the same time. Had we no idea of being, the principle would\nmean nothing: contradiction is inconceivable when we have no idea of\nthe contradicting extremes, and here the extremes are _being_ and\n_not-being_.\n\n4. The same is seen in another principle, closely resembling, if\nnot identical with, that of contradiction: \"every thing either is\nor is not.\" Here, also, there is question of being in its greatest\nindeterminateness, considered only as being, as nothing more. Without\nthe idea of _being_, the axiom could have no meaning.\n\n5. The principle of Descartes, \"I think, therefore I am,\" also includes\nthe idea of being: \"I am.\" When he undertakes to explain it, this\nphilosopher relies upon the fact that what is not, cannot act; thus the\nidea of being enters not only into the principle of Descartes, but is\neven the foundation upon which he rests it.\n\n6. Whether we make the inward sense the basis of our cognitions, or\nprefer the evidence by which one idea is contained in another, it is\nalways necessary to make the idea of being a primary element; we must\nsuppose the understanding _to be_ before it can think; we must suppose\nthought _to be_ before we can make use of it; we must suppose our\nsensations and sentiments, the operations and affections of our souls,\n_to be_, before we can investigate their causes, their origin, and\ninquire into their nature; we must suppose ourselves _to be_, that _we\nare_, before we can advance one step in any sense. The idea of being\ndoes then exist in our mind, and is an element indispensable to all\nintellectual acts.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\nSIMPLICITY AND INDETERMINATENESS OF THE IDEA OF BEING.\n\n\n7. Nothing can be conceived more simple than the idea of being. It\ncannot be composed of elements. It allows of nothing determinate, since\nit is in itself absolutely indeterminate. The instant that something\ndeterminate is made to enter it, it is in a manner destroyed; it is no\nlonger the idea of _being_, but of _such a being_; an idea applied,\nbut not the idea of the being in all its generality.\n\n8. How shall we make it understood what we would express by the word\nbeing, or ens? If we say that it comprises all, even the most unlike\nand opposite things, there is no reason why it may not be understood\nwhat it is. To join to the idea of being any determination, is to\nintroduce into it a heterogeneous element, which in no manner belongs\nto it, and can only accompany it as a pure aggregation, but can never\ncombine with it, without rendering it what it is not. If the idea of\nsubsistence be combined with that of being, we no longer have the pure\nidea of being, but that of subsistence.\n\n9. The idea of being is then most simple; it cannot be resolved into\nelements, and cannot consequently spring from speech, unless as from\nan exciting cause. If we be asked, for example, what we understand\nby substance, by modification, cause or effect, we explain it by\nuniting to the idea of being that of subsistence or inherence, that\nof productive force, or of a thing produced; but it is impossible for\nus to explain being, otherwise than by itself. We may make use of the\nwords, something, what is, reality, and the like, but all these are\ninadequate to explain the thing itself; they are but the efforts we\nmake to excite in the understanding of others the idea we contemplate\nin our own. If we would give further explanations by showing how the\nidea corresponding to the word being, is applicable to every thing,\nand in order to do this enumerate the different classes of being,\napplying the idea to them all, we only succeed in showing the use\nof the idea and the applications of which it is susceptible; but we\ndo not decompose it. We say, indeed, that there is in all something\ncorresponding to it, but we do not decompose this something; we only\npoint it out.\n\n10. From this we infer that the idea of being is not intuitive to\nus, and that by its very indeterminateness it excludes all that a\ndeterminate object can offer to our perception.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\nSUBSTANTIVE AND COPULATIVE BEING.\n\n\n11. For the more thorough understanding of this matter, it will be well\nto distinguish between the absolute and relative ideas of being; that\nis between what is expressed by the word being, when it designates\nreality, simple existence, and when it marks the union of a predicate\nand its subject. In the two following propositions we see very closely\nthe different meaning of the word _is_; Peter _is_; Peter _is_ good.\nIn the former the word _is_ designates the reality of Peter, or his\nexistence; in the latter, it expresses the union of the predicate\n_good_ with the subject _Peter_. In the former the verb _to be_ is\nsubstantive, in the latter it is copulative. The substantive simply\nexpresses the existence; the copulative a determination, a mode of\nexisting. The desk is, signifies the simple existence of the desk; the\ndesk is high, expresses a mode of being, height.\n\n12. Purely substantive being, is nowhere met with, except in the\nfollowing proposition: being is, or what is is; in all other\npropositions there is involved, even in the subject itself, some\npredicate which determines the mode. When we say, the desk is,\nnotwithstanding that the direct predicate of the proposition is the\nword _is_, there yet enters into the subject _desk_ a determination\nof the being of which we speak, and that is of a being which is a\ndesk. We were, then, right in saying that the verb _to be_, in its\npurely substantive meaning, is met with in no other proposition than\nthis: being is. This is perfectly identical, absolutely necessary and\nconvertible, that is, the predicate may be observed of all subjects,\nand the subject of all predicates. Suppose we give the proposition\na different form; being is existing; we can still say all being is\nexisting, or the existing is being; that is, all that exists is being.\n\n13. If it be objected that possible being does not exist, we answer\nthat purely possible being is not, strictly speaking, being; but\nthat it does exist, in the same mode in which it is, that is, in\nthe possible order. As we shall, however, treat this question more\nfully hereafter, we now turn to the propositions in which being is\ncopulative. The desk is, is equivalent to this, the desk is existing.\nIt is true that every real desk is existing, but real is the same as\nexisting; and thus it might, in one sense, be said that the proposition\nresembles this other: all being is. But here we detect a difference; it\nconsists in this, that the idea of existence does not necessarily enter\ninto that of desk, for we can conceive of a desk which does not exist,\nbut we cannot conceive of a being as such without a being, that is,\nof a being which is not being. A very notable difference is every way\nperceptible between the two propositions; in the former, the subject\nmay be affirmed of all predicates by saying, all that is existing is\nbeing; but it is evident that we cannot say all that is existing is\ndesk.\n\n14. The reason of this is that the proposition, being is, is absolutely\nidentical; it is the expression of a pure conception reduced to the\nform of a proposition; and, consequently, the terms which serve as\nextremes may be taken indiscriminately the one for the other; being\nis, whatever is, is being; being is existing; every thing existing\nis being. But different orders of ideas are combined in all other\npropositions; and, although the common idea of being is applicable to\nall, as this idea is essentially indeterminate, it does not thence\nfollow that one of the things to which the general idea corresponds is\nidentical with the other, alike entering into the same general idea.\nBeing belongs to every existing desk; but not, therefore, is every\nthing a desk.\n\n15. Copulative being may be applied without the substantive; thus when\nwe say that the ellipse is curvilinear, we abstract both the existence\nand non-existence of any one ellipse; and the proposition would be true\nalthough no ellipse at all were to exist. The reason is that the verb\n_to be_, when copulative, expresses the relation of two ideas.\n\n16. This relation is of identity, but in such a way that more than the\nunion of the two is needed before a predicate can be affirmed of a\nsubject. The head is united to the man, but it cannot, therefore, be\nsaid, \"man is his head;\" the sensibility is united to the reason in the\nsame man, but we cannot say, \"sensibility is reason;\" whiteness is in\nunion with the wall, but we cannot say \"the wall is whiteness.\"\n\nThe affirmation, then, of a predicate expresses the relation of\nidentity, and this is why, when this identity does not exist with\nrespect to the predicate in the abstract, it is expressed in the\nconcrete, in order that something involving identity may enter into it.\nThe wall is whiteness: this proposition is false, because it affirms an\nidentity which does not exist; the wall is white: this proposition is\ntrue, because white means something which has whiteness, and the wall\nis really something which has whiteness; here, then, is the identity\nwhich the proposition affirms.[18]\n\n[18] See Bk. I., Chs. XXXVI., XXVII., and XVIII.\n\n17. The predicate is, then, in every affirmative proposition,\nidentified with the subject. When we perceive, therefore, we affirm the\nidentity. Judgment, then, is the perception of the identity. We do not,\nhowever, deny that in what we call assent there is often something more\nthan the simple perception of identity; but we do not understand how we\nneed any thing more than to see it evidently in order to assent to it.\nWhat we call assent, adhesion of the understanding, seems to be a kind\nof metaphor, as if the understanding would adhere, would yield itself\nto the truth, if it were presented; but in reality we very much doubt\nif, with respect to what is evident, there be any thing but perception\nof the identity.\n\n18. Hence it follows, that if the same ideas were to correspond in the\nvery same manner to the same words, the opposition and diversity of\njudgments in different understandings would be impossible. When, then,\nthis diversity or opposition does exist, there is always a discrepancy\nin the ideas.\n\n19. We conceive of things, and reason upon them abstracted from their\nexistence or non-existence; or we even suppose them not to exist, that\nis, conceive of relations between predicates and subjects without the\nexistence of either predicates or subjects. And as all contingent\nbeings may either be or cease to be, and even the first moment of their\nbeing be designated, it follows that science, or the knowledge of\nthe nature and relations of beings, founded upon certain and evident\nprinciples, has nothing contingent for its object inasmuch as it\nexists. There is, then, an infinite world of truths beyond contingent\nreality.\n\nWe conclude, from our reflections upon this, that there must be beyond\nthe contingent world a necessary being in which may be founded that\nnecessary truth which is the object of science. Science cannot have\nnothing for its object; but contingent beings, if we abstract their\nexistence, are pure nothing. There can be no essence, no properties,\nno relations in what is pure nothing; something therefore is necessary\nwhereon to base the necessary truth of those natures, properties, and\nrelations which the understanding conceives of in contingent beings\nthemselves. There is, then, a God; and to deny him, is to make science\na pure illusion. The unity of human reason furnishes us one proof of\nthis truth; the necessity of human science furnishes a second, and\nconfirms the first.[19]\n\n[19] See Bk. IV., Ch. XXIII. to Ch. XXVII.\n\n20. We find a conditional proposition involved in every necessary\nproposition, wherein substantive being is not affirmed nor denied, but\nthe relative, as in this; all the diameters of a circle are equal.\nThus, the one we have just cited is equivalent to this one; if there\nexists a circle all its diameters are equal. For in reality did no\ncircle exist, there would be no diameters, no equality, or any thing\nelse; nothing can have no properties; wherefore in all that is thus\naffirmed we must understand the condition of its existence.\n\n21. In general propositions the union conceived of two objects is\naffirmed; but we must take good care to notice that although we are\nwont to say that what is affirmed is the union of two ideas; this is\nnot, therefore, perfectly exact. When we assert that all the diameters\nof a circle are equal, we do not mean that this is so only in ideas,\nthat we conceive it so to be, but that it really is so, beyond our own\nunderstanding and in reality, and this abstracting our ideas and even\nour own existence. Our understanding sees then a relation, a union of\nthe objects; and it affirms that whenever these exist, there will also\nreally exist the union, provided the conditions under which the object\nis conceived be fulfilled.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\nBEING, THE OBJECT OF THE UNDERSTANDING, IS NOT THE POSSIBLE, INASMUCH\nAS POSSIBLE.\n\n\n22. One very important point concerning the idea of being remains to\nbe illustrated, and that is, whether this idea has possible or real\nbeing for its object. The scholastics taught that the object of the\nunderstanding was being; nor were they altogether without reason in\nso doing, since one of the things we conceive of with the greatest\ndistinctness, and which is found to be the most fundamental in all\nour ideas, is the idea of being, containing as it does in a certain\nmanner all other ideas. But as being is distinguished into actual and\npossible, a difficulty occurs as to which of these categories the idea\nof being, the chief object of our understanding, is applicable to.\n\n23. The Abbate Rosmini, in his _Nuovo Saggio sull' origine delle\nidee_, pretends that the form and the light of our understanding, and\nthe origin of all our ideas, consists in the idea, not of real, but\nof possible being. \"The simple idea of being,\" he says, \"is not the\nperception of any existing thing, but the intuition of some possible\nthing; it is no more than the idea of the possibility of the thing.\"[20]\n\n[20] Sec. 5, P. 1, C. 3, A. 1, \u00a7 2.\n\nI very much doubt the truth of this; and there seems also to be some\nconfusion of ideas here. He ought to have defined possibility itself\nfor us, before making the idea of it enter into that of being. I\nwill myself give a definition of it, and this may serve greatly to\nfacilitate the understanding of the whole matter.\n\n24. What is possibility? The idea of possibility, abstracted from its\nclassifications, offers us a general idea of the non-repugnance, or\nnon-exclusion, of two things with respect to each other; just as the\nidea of impossibility presents us such a repugnance or exclusion. A\ntriangle cannot be a circle. A triangle may be equilateral. In the\nformer case we affirm the repugnance of the ideas of the triangle and\nof the circle: in the latter, the non-repugnance of a triangle having\nits three sides equal. It may be said that in these cases there is no\nquestion of the existence of the triangle or of the circle; and that\nthe possibility or impossibility is referred to the repugnance of their\nessences, abstracted from their existence or non-existence, although\nideal impossibility draws along with it real impossibility.\n\n25. Since, whenever impossibility is asserted, repugnance also, is\nasserted, and there can be no repugnance of a thing with itself, it\nfollows that impossibility is only possible when two or more ideas\nare compared. On the other hand, when there is no repugnance there is\npossibility; then, no simple idea, of itself alone, can offer to us\nan impossible object. The object, therefore, of every simple idea is\nalways possible, that is, is not repugnant.\n\n26. Those things only are intrinsically impossible which involve the\nbeing and the not-being of the same thing; wherefore they are styled\ncontradictory. When an absurdity of this nature is presented to us, we\nat once recollect the principle of contradiction, and say, this cannot\nbe, \"since it would be and would not be at the same time.\" Why is a\ncircular triangle impossible? Because it would be and it would not be a\ntriangle at one and the same time.\n\nThe idea of not-being does then enter into that of impossibility:\nwithout it, there can be no exclusion of being, and consequently,\nneither contradiction nor impossibility.\n\n27. Possibility may be understood in two ways: I., inasmuch as it\nexpresses only simple non-repugnance; and then what does not exist, is\nnot only possible when it does not involve any contradiction, but also,\nthe existing, the actual; II., inasmuch as it expresses non-repugnance,\nunited to the idea of not being realized; and then it is only\napplicable to non-existing things. The possible taken in the former\nsense, is opposed to the impossible; in the latter, it is opposed to\nthe existing; it involves, however, the condition of non-repugnance. In\nthe former case we have possibility simply so called; in the second,\npure possibility.\n\nFrom these remarks we conclude that the idea of possibility adds\nsomething to that of being, that is, non-repugnance, non-exclusion;\nand if there be question of pure possibility, the non-existence of the\npossible being is likewise added.\n\n28. When the understanding perceives being in itself, it cannot\ndistinguish whether there is or is not repugnance; this is only\ndiscoverable by comparison; for the idea of being, in itself simple,\ndoes not include comparable terms. The idea of being can encounter\nno repugnance if it be not applied to some determinate thing, to an\nessence in which contradictory conditions are imagined, as may be\nverified by seeking to apply being to a circular triangle.\n\n29. So far is the idea of being in itself from being susceptible\nof abstraction from the idea of existence, that it is rather the\nidea itself of existence. When we conceive of being, in all its\nabstractness, we conceive of nothing else than of existence; these two\nwords denote one and the same idea.\n\n30. We can, in determinate things, conceive of the essence without\nexistence; thus also we can very easily consider all imaginable\ngeometrical figures and examine their properties and relations,\nabstracted from their existence or non-existence; but the idea of\nbeing, as something absolutely indeterminate, if it be abstracted from\nexistence, is also abstracted from itself, is annihilated.\n\nI should be much obliged to any one who would tell me to what the\nidea of being in general corresponds, abstracted from existence. If,\nafter abstracting all determination, we also abstract being itself,\nwhat remains? Some one may answer, there remains a thing which may be.\nWhat does _a thing_ mean? In case we abstract every thing determinate,\n_thing_ can only signify a being; we should have a thing which may be,\nand this is equivalent to a being which may be. This is very well:\nbut when we speak of a being which may be, is there only a question\nof an impure possibility? then we do not abstract existence, and\nthe conditions of the supposition are not kept. Is there question\nof pure possibility? then existence is denied, and the proposition\nis equivalent to this: a being which is not, but which involves\nno repugnance. Let us examine the meaning of this expression: \"a\nbeing which is not.\" What does the subject, a being, mean? a thing,\nor rather, that which is. What does a thing mean? a being: then\nabstraction is made from every thing determinate. Therefore, either the\nsubject of the proposition means nothing, or the proposition is absurd,\nsince it is equivalent to this, a thing which is, which is not, but\nwhich involves no repugnance.\n\n31. The origin of the equivocation we combat consists in applying to\nthe idea itself of being that which belongs only to things that are\nsomething determinate, conceivable without existence. Pure being, in\nall its abstractness, is inconceivable without actual being, it is\nexistence itself.\n\n32. Nor does pure possibility mean any thing except in order to\nexistence. What is possible being if it cannot be realized, cannot\nexist? The idea of being is therefore independent of the idea of\npossibility; and the latter is only applicable in relation to the\nformer.\n\n33. The idea, then, of being is the very idea of existence, of\nrealization. If we conceive of pure being, without mixture or\nmodification, and subsisting in itself, we conceive of the infinite, we\nconceive of God: but if we consider the idea of being as participated\nin a contingent manner, by application to finite things, we then\nconceive of their actuality or realization.\n\n34. When we apply the idea of being to things, we have no intention of\napplying to them that of possibility, but that of reality. If we say\nthe desk is, we affirm of the subject desk the predicate contained in\nthe idea of being: and still we do not mean to say that the desk is\npossible, but that it really exists.\n\n35. Nevertheless, the idea of being excludes that of not-being, in such\na way that if the idea of being were only of the possible, it would\nnot exclude that of not-being, since the purely possible even includes\nnot-being; possibility, therefore, does not enter into the sole idea of\nbeing; and this idea expresses simply existence, reality.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V.\n\nA DIFFICULTY SOLVED.\n\n\n36. What means the idea of purely possible being? If we maintain that\nthe object of the idea of being is reality, these two ideas, being, and\npurely possible, would seem to be contradictory: reality is not purely\npossible, for were it purely possible, it would not exist, and in the\nnon-existing there is no reality. Let us examine this difficulty, and\ninvestigate the origin of the idea of pure possibility.\n\n37. Surrounded as we are by contingent beings, contingent beings\nourselves, we are incessantly aware of the destruction of some, and the\nproduction of others, that is to say, of the transition from being to\nnot-being, and from not-being to being. Our inward sense attests to us\nthis transition from not-being to being; we have ourselves experienced\nit; all our recollections are limited to a very brief term, before\nwhich the world already existed. Thus, then, reason, experience, and\ninward sense show us that there are some objects which are, and then\ndisappear, and that others, which before were not, now appear. In those\nthings in which we witness this change, we perceive properties and\nrelations which give occasion to a certain combination of our ideas,\nand this combination subsists whether the objects to which they refer\ncontinue or cease to exist. In this way we form a general idea of\nthings which, although they do not exist, may exist; but this subject\n_things_, does not express being, but in general finite, determinate\nobjects.\n\n38. Here, then, is the solution of the difficulty. Purely possible\nbeing, such as we conceive it to be in the manner explained, involves\nno contradiction; it does not denote _a reality which is not a\nreality_, but an object, or a finite, determinate thing, the idea of\nwhich we have, although it do not exist, and whose existence involves\nno contradiction, or repugnance with any of the conditions contained\nin its idea. The expression, then, purely possible being, if it be\nexplained in this manner, is nothing more than the generalization of\nthese and other similar propositions. A desk which is not is possible.\nWhat do we mean by this? Simply that in the idea of desk there is\nnothing repugnant to its existing; and purely possible being signifies\nnothing more than that we have many ideas of finite things which may\nexist without repugnance. The expression refers to determinate things\nconceived of by us, but we abstract in this case whether this or that\nbe the essence of which we speak, and comprise all those which offer no\nrepugnance.\n\n39. If it be objected that an infinite, non-existing being would\nthen be a contradictory thing, we admit it without hesitation. If\nan infinite being do not exist it is an absurdity; and if, when we\ncompare these two ideas, infinity and non-existence, we do not see\nthe repugnance between them with perfect clearness, it is because we\ndo not comprehend the nature of infinity. This is the only reason why\nthe demonstration of the existence of God founded simply on his idea,\nhas been and still is exposed to difficulties. But it is certain that\nif the infinite being did not exist, it would be impossible. For that\nis impossible which cannot exist; and did it not already exist it\ncould not exist. This existence could not come from another, since the\ninfinite cannot be a being produced; nor from itself, since it would\nnot exist. We do, it is true, imagine the infinite in its essence,\nabstracted from its existence; but I repeat that this abstraction is\nonly possible to us because we cannot well comprehend the infinite;\ncould we comprehend it, we should see the repugnance between these\nterms, infinity and non-existence, with the same clearness as we see\nthat of the triangle and circle.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI.\n\nIN WHAT SENSE THE IDEA OF BEING IS THE FORM OF THE UNDERSTANDING.\n\n\n40. When it is asserted that the object of the understanding is being,\nthere is room to doubt whether it is meant that the idea of being is\nthe general form of all conceptions, or only that all the understanding\nconceives is being; or, in other words, whether the quality of object\nis attributed to being, as being, in such a way that under this form\nalone objects are conceivable, or only that the quality of being\nbelongs to all that the understanding conceives.\n\nIn the first case the proposition might be taken in a reduplicative\nsense, and would then be equivalent to this: \"The understanding\nconceives nothing save inasmuch as it is being;\" in the second it\nmight be taken formally, and be equivalent to this: \"whatever the\nunderstanding conceives is being.\"\n\n41. We are of opinion that it cannot be said that the object of the\nunderstanding is being only inasmuch as being; in such a way as to make\nthe idea of being the only form of the understanding's conceiving; but\nthat this form is an essential condition to all perception.\n\n42. If we remark that the idea of being, in itself considered, neither\nincludes any determination or variety, nor expresses any thing more\nthan being, in its greatest abstractness, we shall not fail clearly\nto perceive that this idea of being is not the only form conceived by\nthe understanding; if, therefore, the understanding do not perceive\nany thing besides this idea in its objects, it cannot know their\ndifferences; nor can its perception go beyond that which is common to\nall, being.\n\n43. If it be said that the differences perceived are modes of being,\nmodifications of that which is represented in the general idea, it is\nat once agreed that being in itself is not the only form perceived;\nsince both modification and mode of being add something to the idea\nof being. The rectangular triangle is a kind of triangle: its idea is\na modification of the general idea, and no one will pretend that the\nidea of rectangular adds nothing to that of triangle, or that they are\nboth the same thing. The same is verified in the idea of being and its\nmodifications.\n\n44. We have already seen[21] that indeterminate ideas by themselves\nalone do not lead to positive cognitions; and certainly no idea\nbetter merits the name of indeterminate than that of being. Were our\nunderstanding limited to it, perception would be nothing but a vague\nconception, incapable of any combination.\n\n[21] See Book IV., Ch. XXI.\n\n45. Negation itself, as we shall hereafter see, is known to us, but\nthis it could not be were we to admit that the understanding knows\nnothing save inasmuch as it is being; in which case the indispensable\ncondition of all cognition, the principle of contradiction, would\ndeceive us.\n\n46. These reasons suffice to place beyond all doubt what we have\nproposed to show, but as this point is intimately connected with what\nis most transcendental in logic and metaphysics, we will endeavor to\nexplain it more at large in the following chapter.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII.\n\nALL SCIENCE IS FOUNDED IN THE POSTULATE OF EXISTENCE.\n\n\n47. We have said that the idea of being is not the sole form perceived,\nbut that it is a form necessary to all perception. We do not mean by\nthis to say that we cannot perceive without the actually existing;\nbut that existence enters in some degree as a condition of every\nthing perceived. We will explain ourselves. When we simply perceive\nan object, and affirm nothing of it, it is always offered to us as a\nreality. Our idea certainly expresses something, but it has nothing\nexcepting reality. Even the perception of the essential relations of\nthings involves the condition that they exist. Thus, when we say that\nin the same circle or in equal circles equal arcs are subtended by\nequal chords, we suppose impliedly this condition, \"if a circle exists.\"\n\n48. Since this manner of explaining the cognition of the essential\nrelations of things may seem far-fetched, we will endeavor to present\nit under the clearest possible point of view. When we affirm or deny\nan essential relation of two things, do we affirm or deny it of our\nown ideas or of the things? Clearly of the things, not of our ideas.\nIf we say, \"the ellipse is a curve,\" we do not say this of our idea,\nbut of the object of our idea. We are well aware that our ideas are not\nellipses, that there are none in our head, and that when we reflect,\nfor example, upon the orbit of the earth, that this orbit is not within\nus. Of what, then, do we speak? Not of the idea, but of its object; not\nof what is in us, but of what is without us.\n\n49. Nor do we mean that we _see_ it thus, but that it _is_ thus; when\nwe say the circumference is greater than the diameter, we do not mean\nthat we see it thus, but that it is thus. So far are we from speaking\nof our idea, that we should assert it to be true although we did not\nsee it, and even although it were not to exist. We speak of our idea\nonly when we doubt of its correspondence with the object; then we do\nnot speak of reality, but of appearance, and in such cases our language\nis admirably exact, for we do not say, _it is_, but, _it seems to us_.\n\n50. Our affirmations and negations, therefore, refer to their\nobjects. Now, we argue thus: what does not exist is pure nothing, and\nnothing can either be affirmed or denied of nothing, since it has no\nproperty or relation of any kind, but is a pure negation of every\nthing; therefore, nothing can be affirmed or denied; there can be no\ncombination, no comparison, no perception, except on condition of\nexistence.\n\nWe say _on condition_, because we know the properties and relations of\nmany things which do not exist; but in all that we do know of them,\nthis condition always enters: if they exist.\n\n51. Hence it follows that our science rests always on a postulate; and\nwe purposely use this mathematical expression in order to show that\nthose sciences which are called exact by antonomasy do not disdain this\ncondition which we exact from all science. The greater part of them\ncommence with this postulate: \"Let a line be drawn, &c.,\" \"Suppose B to\nbe a right angle, &c.,\" \"Take a quantity A greater than B, &c.\" This\nis the way the mathematician, with all his rigor, always supposes the\ncondition of existence.\n\n52. It is necessary to suppose this existence, otherwise nothing\ncould be explained. Common sense teaches us what has escaped some\nmetaphysicians. To prove it, let us see how a mathematician, who never\ndipped into metaphysics, would talk. We will suppose the interlocutor\nto set out to demonstrate to us that in a rectangular triangle the\nsquare of the hypothenuse is equal to the sum of the squares of\nthe base and perpendicular; and that we, in order to exercise his\nintelligence, or rather to make him show us, without himself being\naware of it, what is passing in his own mind with respect to the\nperception of its object, put various questions to him, in reality\nsearching, although apparently asked out of ignorance. We will adopt\nthe form of a dialogue for the sake of greater clearness, and will\nsuppose the demonstration to be given from memory, without the aid of\nfigures.\n\n_Demonstration._ Drop a perpendicular from the right angle to the\nhypothenuse.\n\nWhere?\n\nWhy, in the triangle of which we speak, of course.\n\nBut, sir, if there be no such triangle----\n\nWhy then, what are we talking of?\n\nWe are talking of a rectangular triangle, and the case supposed is that\nthere is none.\n\nIs not, but can be. Take paper, a pencil, and ruler, and we will have\none right away.\n\nThat is to say, you speak of the triangle we may make?\n\nYes, sir.\n\nAh, I understand; but then we should have it; now, we have not got it.\n\nAll in good time. But if we had drawn it, could we not drop the\nperpendicular?\n\nCertainly.\n\nThat is all I meant to say.\n\nBut you were saying drop----\n\nNo doubt we cannot drop a perpendicular in a triangle unless the\ntriangle exists, since then there is neither vertex of a right angle,\nhypothenuse, nor any thing else; but when I say, drop a perpendicular,\nI always suppose a triangle; and as it is evident that the triangle may\nexist, I do not express the supposition, but understand it.\n\nI comprehend this; but then we should drop the perpendicular only in\nthis triangle, but you spoke as if we might drop it in all triangles.\n\nI only took this triangle for an example; we can clearly do with all\nothers what we can do with this one.\n\nWith all?\n\nCertainly. Can you not see how, in every rectangular triangle, a\nperpendicular may be drawn from the right angle to the hypothenuse?\n\nYes, in your figure; but since what is in my head is not a triangle,\nfor I imagine some with sides a thousand miles long, and there is not\nin my head room enough--\n\nThere is no question of what is in your head, but of triangles\nthemselves--\n\nBut these triangles do not exist; therefore, we can say nothing of them.\n\nYes; but may they not exist?\n\nWho doubts it?\n\nWell then, if they do exist, be they large or small, in one position\nor another, here or there, is it not true that a perpendicular may be\ndrawn from the vertex of the right angle to the hypothenuse?\n\nEvidently.\n\nI have then only to say that, in every rectangular triangle, this\nperpendicular may be drawn.\n\nThen you do not speak of those which do not exist? Is it not so?\n\nI speak of all, whether they do or do not exist.\n\nBut a perpendicular cannot be drawn in a triangle which does not exist.\nWhat does not exist is nothing.\n\nBut perhaps that which does not exist may exist; and I see with perfect\nclearness how every thing said would be verified, _supposing it to\nexist_. Thus we can and do speak of all existences and non-existences\nwithout any exception.\n\nWe leave it to the reader to judge if we have not, while thus rudely\ntroubling our good mathematician with our importunate questions, made\nhim reply as would have replied every one not at all acquainted with\nmetaphysics. It is evident that these replies ought to be accepted as\nreasonable, as satisfactory, and as the only ones in this case that all\nthe mathematicians in the world could give.\n\nThis being so, all that we have advanced is found in these replies and\nexplications. All science is founded on the postulate of existence;\nevery argument, to demonstrate even the most essential properties and\nrelations of things, must start with the supposition of their existence.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII.\n\nTHE FOUNDATION OF PURE POSSIBILITY, AND THE CONDITION OF ITS EXISTENCE.\n\n\n53. We have said that the foundation of the pure possibility of things,\nand of their properties and relations, is founded in the essence of\nGod, wherein is the reason of every thing.[22] And it may at first sight\nseem that science needs only this foundation, and does not require\nto rest upon the condition of the existence of things; because, if\nessences are represented in God, the object of science is found in\nthe Divine essence; and consequently, the argument founded upon the\nimpossibility of asserting any thing of nothing, is not conclusive.\nSupposing there to be such a representation, science is not occupied\nwith a pure nothing, but with a real thing; and it has consequently in\nview a positive object, even when it abstracts the reality of the thing\nconsidered.\n\n[22] See L. IV., C. XXIII. to XXVII.\n\nLet us see how we can solve this difficulty.\n\n54. The necessary relations of things, independently of their\nexistence, must have a sufficient reason; and this can only be in\nnecessary being. The condition, therefore, of existence, presupposes\nthe representation of the essence of the contingent being in necessary\nbeing; the condition, therefore, \"if it exist,\" cannot be brought in\nunless it presupposes the foundation of possibility.\n\n55. This remark shows that there are two questions:--1st: What is\nthe foundation of the intrinsic possibility of things? 2d: Supposing\npossibility, what condition is involved in so much as it is affirmed\nor denied of the possible object? The foundation of the possibility is\nGod; and the condition is the existence of the objects considered.\n\nBoth are requisite to science; if the foundation of intrinsic\npossibility be wanting, the condition of existence cannot come in; and\nif, admitting the possibility, we omit the condition, science has no\nobject.\n\n56. We would remark, for the better understanding of this whole\nsubject, that we do not, in affirming or denying the relations of\nbeings represented in God, treat of what these beings are in God, but\nof what they would be in themselves were they to exist. In God, all are\nthe same God; for all that is in God, is identical with God. If, then,\nwe consider things only as they are in him, we shall have God, not the\nthings, for object. Certain it is, that in God is the foundation, or\nthe sufficient reason, of geometrical truths: but geometry does not\nconsider them such as they are in God, but such as they are or may\nbe realized. In God, there are neither lines nor dimensions of any\nkind; he, therefore, is not the object of geometry properly so called.\nGeometrical truths have in him an objective value or representative\nvalue, but not subjective; we should otherwise be obliged to say that\nGod is extensive.\n\n57. Here, then, is seen that what we said above in the place cited,\ndoes not conflict with what we have here established; and that to make\nGod the foundation of all possibility, does not exclude the scientific\nnecessity of the condition of existence.\n\n58. We will, in order to place this beyond all doubt, present the\nquestion under another aspect, by showing that when God knows finite\ntruths, he sees in them this condition likewise: \"If they exist.\" God\nknows the truth of this proposition: \"Triangles of equal base and\naltitude are of equal superfices:\" this is true as well in the eyes of\ninfinite intelligence, as in ours; were it not thus the proposition\nwould not be true in itself, and we should be in error. This being so,\nthere are in God, who is most simple being, no true figures, although\nhe has the intellectual perception of them. The cognition, then,\nof God, in what relates to finite things, refers to their possible\nexistence, and consequently involves the condition that they exist.\n\nThe cognition of God does not refer to their purely ideal\nrepresentation, but to their actual or possible reality; when God\nknows a truth of finite beings, he does not know it from the sole\nrepresentation of those truths which he has in himself, but from that\nwhich they would be were they to exist.\n\n59. Every object may be considered either in the real or in the ideal\norder. The ideal is their representation in an understanding, which\nhas a value only inasmuch as it refers to possible or actual reality.\nIn this manner alone can the idea have objectiveness, since otherwise\nit could only be a purely subjective fact, of which, excepting the\npurely subjective, nothing could be either affirmed or denied. The idea\nwhich we have of the triangle aids us, in so far as it has a real or\npossible object, to know and combine: we refer what we affirm or deny\nof it to its object: if this disappear, the idea is converted into a\npurely subjective fact, to which we cannot apply the properties of a\ntriangular figure without an open contradiction.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX.\n\nIDEA OF NEGATION.\n\n\n60. It is said that the understanding does not conceive nothing: this\nis true in the sense that we do not conceive nothing as something,\nwhich would be a contradiction; but it does not therefore follow, that\nwe do not in any mode conceive nothing. Not-being is nothing, and yet\nwe conceive not-being. This perception is necessary to us; without it\nwe could not perceive contradiction; for which reason the principle of\ncontradiction: \"It is impossible for a thing to exist and not to exist\nat the same time:\" fundamental as it is in our cognitions, would fail\nus.\n\n61. It may be said that to conceive nothing, not-being, is not to\nconceive, but to not-conceive: this, however, is false, for it is not\nthe same thing to conceive that a thing is not, and not to conceive\nit. The former involves a negative judgment, and may be expressed by a\nnegative proposition; and the latter is the simple absence of the act\nof perception; the former is objective, the latter subjective. We do\nnot when asleep perceive things; but this non-perception is by no means\nequivalent to perceiving that they are not. It may be said of a stone\nthat it does not perceive another stone; but not that it perceives the\nnon-being of the other stone.\n\n62. The perception of not-being is a positive act; and it would be\na contradiction to say that it is the very perception of being; for\nit would follow, that whenever we perceive being, we perceive its\nnegation, not-being, and _vice versa_, which is an absurdity.\n\n63. When we perceive not-being, we do, it is true, perceive it in\nrelation to being; and it is equally true, an understanding perceiving\nabsolute not-being, without any idea of being, is altogether\ninconceivable; but this does not prove the two ideas not to be distinct\nand contradictory.\n\n64. It is remarkable that the idea of negation, besides entering into\nthe fundamental principles of our understanding: \"It is impossible for\na thing to be and not to be at the same time:\" \"Every thing either is\nor is not:\" is also necessary to almost all of our perceptions. We do\nnot conceive distinct beings without conceiving that one _is not_ the\nother, and we cannot form a negative judgment into which negation does\nnot enter. Hence it results that just as the idea of being is absolute\nand relative, also is the idea of not-being: thus, we say, \"The sun\n_is_;\" \"All the diameters of a circle _are_ equal;\" and we also say,\n\"The ph\u0153nix _is not_:\" \"The diameters of an ellipse _are not_ equal.\"\n\n65. We may ask those who hold that every idea is the image of the\nobject, what sort of an image the idea of not-being would form? This\nconfirms what we have already advanced, that it is a mistake to\nimagine all ideas as a kind of types, similar to things, and that we\ncannot oftentimes explain any of those inward phenomena, called ideas,\nnotwithstanding we know and explain their objects by them.\n\n66. It is also said that the object of the understanding is being;\nbut this is inexplicable in the sense that the understanding does\nnot perceive not-being; and can be understood only in the sense that\nwe perceive not-being as coordinated to being, and that not-being of\nitself alone, cannot be the origin of any cognition.\n\nRemark here an important difference. By the idea of being every thing\nmay be understood; and the more of being there is in the idea, the\nmore do we understand; and if an idea be supposed to represent a\nbeing without any limitation, or, which is the same thing, without\nany negation, we should have a cognition of an infinite being. On\nthe contrary, the perception of not-being teaches us nothing, save\ninasmuch as it shows us the limitation of determinate beings and their\nrelations; and if we suppose the idea of not-being to be gradually\nextended, we shall see that in proportion as it approaches its limits,\nthat is, pure not-being, absolute nothing, the understanding loses its\nobject; the points of comparison and the elements of combination fail;\nall light goes out, and intelligence dies.\n\n67. We know universal, absolute nothing, only as a momentary condition\nwhich we imagine, but do not admit. In it we see that it is impossible\nthat something should not exist; for, could any one instant be\ndesignated in which nothing existed, nothing could now exist. In\nthis imaginary nothing, we discover no point of departure for the\nunderstanding; all combinations become impossible and absurdities; the\nmind sees itself perishing in the vacuum it has itself created.\n\n68. If the idea of negation be not combined with that of being, it\nis perfectly sterile; but thus combined, it has a kind of fecundity\npeculiar to itself. The ideas of distinction, of limitation, and of\ndetermination, involve a relative negation, for we do not conceive\ndistinct beings without conceiving that one is not another; nor\nlimited beings, without conceiving that they _are wanting_, that is,\nthat in some sense they _are not_; nor determinate beings, without\nconceiving something which makes them what they are and not others.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X.\n\nIDENTITY; DISTINCTION; UNITY; MULTIPLICITY.\n\n\n69. Let us examine how we may draw from the idea of not-being the\nexplication of the ideas of identity and distinction, unity and\nmultiplicity.\n\nLet us conceive a being, and fix our attention solely on it, and\ncompare it with nothing which is not it, nor permit any idea of\nnot-being to come in; we shall then, with respect to it, have the\nideas of identity and unity; or, to speak more exactly, these ideas\nof identity and unity will be nothing else than ideas of this same\nbeing. Ideas of unity and identity are for this reason inexplicable\nby themselves alone; they are simple, or are confounded with a simple\nidea in which can be no comparison, and into which if negation enter,\nit is not noted, nor can be made the object of reflection. Thus,\nfor instance, the idea of not-being enters in some manner into the\nperception of every limited being; but we can abstract this negation,\nand consider what the object _is_, not what it _is not_.\n\n70. If we perceive a being, and afterwards another being, the\nperception that one is not the other gives the idea of distinction, and\nconsequently that also of multiplicity. There is, then, no distinction\nor number without perception of relative _not-being_ combined with\n_being_; but this perception is all that is requisite to distinction\nand number.\n\n71. The ideas of identity and unity are simple, those of distinction\nand number composite; the former involve no negation, the latter imply\na negative judgment; \"this is not that.\" It is impossible for A to be\npresented to us as distinct from B, if we do not perceive that B is\nnot A; and on the other hand, we need only to know that B is not A, in\norder to enable us to say they are distinct. These expressions, \"A is\nnot B,\" or, \"A and B are distinct,\" are perfectly identical.\n\n72. From this we infer that the primary combination of our intelligence\nconsists in the perception of being and not-being. By it we perceive\nidentity and distinction, unity and number; by it we compare, affirm,\nor deny; without it we cannot even think. Without the perception\nof negation, we can have only the perception of being, that is, an\nintuition fixed upon an identical object, one and immutable, such as we\nconceive the Divine Intelligence to be, contemplating the infinity of\nbeing in the infinite essence.\n\n73. Does God know negations? Certainly; for when a being ceases\nto exist, God knows this truth, in which there is a negation. He\nknows the truth of all negative propositions, whether it expresses\nsubstantive or relative being; therefore, he knows negation. But this\nis no imperfection, since it cannot be an imperfection to know truth;\nthe imperfection is in the objects, which, by the very fact of being\nfinite, include negation, being combined with not-being. Were God not\nto know negation, it would be because negation is in itself impossible;\nwhich would be equivalent to the impossibility of the existence of the\nfinite, and would lead to the absolute and exclusive necessity of one\nsole infinite being.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI.\n\nORIGIN OF THE IDEA OF BEING.\n\n\n74. If it be impossible to think without the idea of being, it exists\nprior to any reflex act, and it cannot have sprung from reflection.\nThe idea of being must therefore be innate. Let us investigate this\nquestion.\n\n75. We have shown in the preceding chapter that we cannot think without\nthe idea of being; let whoever doubts this consult his own experience,\nand make, if he can, a reflex act into which the idea of being will not\nenter. We have already seen that we cannot exclude it in the conception\nof first principles, and beyond these it is certain no one will go.\n\n76. Can this idea have come to us from sensation? Sensation in itself\noffers us only determinate objects, whereas the idea of being is an\nindeterminate thing: sensation offers us only particular things,\nwhereas the idea of being is the most general it is possible to have:\nsensation teaches us nothing, tells us nothing, except what it is, a\nsimple affection of our soul, whereas the idea of being is a vast idea,\nextending to all, and, fecundating our mind in an admirable manner, is\nthe element of all reflection and alone sufficient to found a science:\nsensation never leaves itself, nor extends to another sensation; the\nsense of touch has nothing to do with that of hearing; all belong to an\ninstant of time, and only exist during it, whereas the idea of being\nguides the mind through every class of beings, the corporeal and the\nincorporeal, the real and the possible, the temporal and the eternal,\nthe finite and the infinite.\n\nIf we discover any thing by sensations, if they produce any\nintellectual fruit, it is because we reflect upon them; but reflection\nis impossible without the idea of being.\n\n77. Neither does it seem that the idea of being can be formed by\nabstraction. To abstract is of necessity to reflect; and reflection\nis impossible without this idea; therefore, it is necessary to\nabstraction, and consequently cannot have abstraction for its cause.\n\n78. On the other hand, an exceedingly simple explication of the\nmethod in which abstraction is made, may be opposed to this argument\napparently so conclusive. We see the paper upon which we write; this\nsensation involves two things, whiteness and extension. Were we\nlimited to simple sensation, here we should stop, and receive only\nthe impression, extension and whiteness. But having within ourselves\na faculty distinct from that of feeling, which makes us capable of\nreflecting upon the very sensation we experience, we can consider\nthat this sensation has some similarity to others which we recollect\nto have experienced. We can then consider extension and whiteness in\nthemselves, abstracting the actual affection which they produce in us.\nAfterwards we can reflect upon the fact that these sensations have\nsomething in common with others, inasmuch as they all affect us in a\ncertain manner, and then we have the idea of sensation in general. If,\nthen, we consider that these sensations all have something in common\nwith all that is in us, in so far as they modify us in a certain\nmanner, we shall form an idea of a modification of the _me_, making\nabstraction, however, of its being a sensation, a thought, or an act\nof the will; and if, finally, we abstract from these things being in\nus, their being substances or modifications, and attend only to the\nfact that they are something, we shall have attained the idea of being.\nThis idea may, therefore, be formed by abstraction. This explication,\nseductive as it is by reason of its simplicity, is open to grave\nobjections.\n\n79. From the very beginning of this process we make use, without\nadverting to it, of the idea of being; we therefore deceive ourselves\nwhen we imagine that we form it. We cannot reflect upon extension and\nwhiteness without remarking that they exist, that they are _something_\nsimilar to other sensations. When we think upon what affects us, we\nknow that _we are_, that that which affects us _is_, and we speak of\nits being or not being, of its having or not having _something common_;\nand finally, when we abstract the modifications of our mind as being\nthis or that, and regard them only as _thing_, as _something_, as\na _being_, we evidently cannot so consider them if there does not\nexist in us the idea of _something_ in general, that is, of being.\nThus being is a predicate which we apply to things; we do, therefore,\nknow this predicate. We only collect in one general and indeterminate\nidea, particular and determinate things, already existing in our\nunderstanding. The successive operations made by means of abstraction\nare only a decomposition of the object, a classification of it in\nvarious general ideas so as to attain to the superior idea of being.\n\n80. It is difficult in view of these reasons, which are all strong,\nto decide without danger of erring for either of the opinions\nadvanced. Nevertheless, we shall give our own in accordance with\nthe principles we have laid down in different parts of this work.\nWe hold that the idea of being is not innate, in the sense that it\npre-exists in our understanding as a type anterior to all sensation\nand to all intellectual acts;[23] but we see no impropriety in calling\nit innate, if nothing more be meant than the _innate faculty_ of our\nunderstanding to perceive objects under the general reason of being or\nexistence, so often as it reflects upon them. Thus the idea does not\nflow from sensations; it is recognized as a primary element of pure\nunderstanding; but it is not formed by abstraction, which separates it\nfrom others, and purifies it, so to speak, itself contributing to this\npurification. In this sense it may exist before reflection, and yet be\nthe fruit of reflection, according to the various stages in which we\nconsider it. Inasmuch as it is mixed and confused with other ideas, it\nexists before reflection; but inasmuch as it has been separated and\npurified, it is the fruit of the same reflection.\n\n[23] See L. IV., C. XXX.\n\n81. We must, in order to give a complete solution of the difficulties\nproposed, give our ideas precision and exactness.\n\nThe idea of being is not only general but also indeterminate; it offers\nto the mind nothing real or even possible, since we do not conceive\nthat a being, which is only being, does or can exist, if no property\nbesides that of being can be affirmed of it. In God is the plenitude\nof being; he is his own being; with reason does he call himself, I\nAM, WHO AM; but we also affirm of him, with all truth, that he is\nintelligent, that he is free, and that he possesses other perfections\nnot expressed in the pure and general idea of being.\n\nFrom this we infer that we ought not to regard the idea of being as\na type representing to us something determinate, even something in\ngeneral.\n\n82. The act by which we perceive being, existence, reality, is\nnecessary to our understanding, but it is confounded with all other\nintellectual acts, as a condition _sine qua non_ of them all, until\nreflection comes to separate it from them, purifying it, and making it\nthe object of our perception.\n\nSince, when we perceive, we perceive something, it is evident that\nthe reason of being is always involved in all our perceptions; by\nthe simple fact of knowing we know being, that is, we know _a thing_.\nBut as we do not always, when we fix our perception upon an object,\ndistinguish the various reasons into which it may be decomposed,\nalthough the idea of being is contained in every object perceived,\nit is not directly perceived by our understanding until reflection\nseparates it from all else.\n\n83. If we reflect upon an azure object, evidently the idea of color\nenters into that of azure; but without reflection we shall not\ndistinguish the genus, color, and the difference, azure. These two\nthings are not really distinguished in the object perceived; for it\nwould be ridiculous to pretend that in a particular azure-colored\nobject, color is one thing and azure another. Nevertheless we can,\nwhen we reflect upon the object, very easily distinguish between the\ntwo ideas of color and azure, and we can discuss one without paying\nattention to the other. Must we say we have the idea of color in\ngeneral, prior to the sensible representation? Most certainly not:\nit is only necessary to recognize an innate force of the mind to\ngeneralize what is presented to it in particular, and to decompose a\nsimple object into various ideas or aspects.\n\n84. Our understanding is endowed with an intellectual force, by virtue\nof which it can conceive unity under the idea of multiplicity, and\nmultiplicity under the idea of unity. We discover an example of the\nlatter when we unite what is really multiple in a single conception.\nOur understanding may be compared to a prism which decomposes a ray\nof light into many colors; hence different conceptions relating to\none simple object. When multiplicity is to be reduced to unity, the\nintellectual force operates in an altogether contrary manner; instead\nof dispersing, it unites; the variety of colors disappears, and the ray\nof light is restored in all its purity and simplicity.\n\n85. Our mind, from the fact that it is limited to know many things\nby conceptions only, and not by intuitions, requires the faculty of\ncomposing and decomposing, of seeing a simple thing under distinct\naspects, and of joining different things under a common reason.\n\nWe must not fail to observe that the power of generalizing and\nof dividing, given to our understanding, is a great help to it,\nindicating, however, its weakness in the intellectual order, and\ncontinually warning it to proceed with due circumspection, when it has\nto decide upon the intimate nature of things.\n\n86. According to this doctrine, general, and more particularly\nindeterminate ideas result from the exercise of reflection upon our own\nperceptive acts; and there is in the general idea nothing more than\nis seen in the particular perception, excepting its own generality\nproduced by the elimination of all individuating conditions. This is\nespecially verified in the idea of being, which, as we have seen,\nenters as a necessary condition into all our perceptions, and is,\nmoreover, requisite to all operations as well of composition as of\ndecomposition.\n\nWe cannot conceive, without conceiving _some thing, a being_; and\nthis is substantive being. We cannot affirm or deny without saying,\n_is_, or _is not_; and this is copulative being. The idea of being\nis, therefore, less an idea than a condition necessary to enable our\nunderstanding to exercise its functions; it is not a type representing\nnothing determinate; it is rather the very condition of its life,\nwithout which it cannot possibly exercise its activity.\n\n87. But we can, by reflection, perceive this condition of all our\nthoughts; the idea of being, standing, as it does, involved with\nthe others, is then presented purified to our eyes, and we conceive\nthat general reason of _being_, or _thing_, which enters into all\nour perceptions, but which we had not previously distinguished with\nsufficient clearness.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XII.\n\nDISTINCTION BETWEEN ESSENCE AND EXISTENCE.\n\n\n88. It has been much disputed in the schools whether existence is\ndistinct from essence. At first sight, this seems an indifferent\nquestion; but such it is not, if we attend to the consequences which,\nin the opinion of respectable authors, flow from it; for they pretend\nto no less than establishing upon the distinction between essence and\nexistence a characteristic note of the finite, attributing to infinite\nbeing alone, the identity of its essence with its existence.\n\n89. That we distinguish between the essence and the existence of things\nis beyond all doubt; for inasmuch as we know an object realized, we\nconceive its existence; and inasmuch as we know that this object exists\nwith this or that determination, constituting it in such or such a\nspecies, we conceive its essence. The idea of existence represents\nto us pure reality; the idea of essence offers us the determination\nof this reality. The schools, however, not satisfied with this, have\nendeavored to transfer to things that distinction which we discover in\nour conceptions; but their opinion seems to be subtle rather than solid.\n\n90. The essence of a thing is that which makes it what it is, and\ndistinguishes it from all else; and existence is the act which gives\nbeing to essence, or that by which essence exists. It would appear,\nfrom these definitions, that there really is no distinction between\nessence and existence. To render two things distinct, it is requisite\nthat one be not the other; but since essence, abstracted from\nexistence, is nothing, we cannot say that there is a real distinction\nbetween them. To what is the essence of a man, if we abstract his\nexistence, reduced? To nothing; and therefore, no relation between them\nis admissible. We grant that when we abstract the existence of man, we\ndo yet conceive the essence of man; but the question is not whether\nwe distinguish between the idea of man and his existence, but whether\nthere is a real distinction between his own essence and existence.\n\n91. In God are the essences of all things, and in this sense they may\nbe said to be distinguished from finite existence; this does not,\nhowever, if we consider it well, at all affect the present question.\nWhen things exist in God, they are not any thing distinct from him;\nthey are represented in the Infinite Intelligence, which is, with\nall its representations, the infinite essence itself. To compare,\ntherefore, the finite existence of things with their essence, as this\nis in God, is entirely to change the state of the question, and to seek\nthe relation of things, not with their particular essences, but with\nthe representations of the Divine understanding.\n\n92. It may be objected that, if the existence of finite beings is the\nsame as their essence, it will follow that existence will be essential\nto these beings; for, since nothing is more essential than essence\nitself, finite beings would exist of necessity, as all that pertains\nto essence is necessary. The radii of a circle are all equal, for\nequality is contained in the essence of the circle; and in like manner,\nif existence belong to the essence of things, they must exist, and\nnon-existence would be a veritable contradiction.\n\nThis difficulty rests upon the ambiguous meaning of the word _essence_,\nand the want of exactness in joining the ideas of essential and\nnecessary. The relation of essential properties is necessary, for we\ncannot destroy it without falling into contradiction. The radii of a\ncircle are equal, because equality is involved in the very idea of\nthe circle; consequently, if this be denied, it would be affirmed and\ndenied at one and the same time. There is, however, no contradiction\nwhen some properties are not compared with others; but this comparison\nis not made when there is question of essence and existence, for in\nthis case one thing is not compared with another, but with itself;\nif the distinction be introduced, it does not refer to two things,\nbut to one and the same thing considered under two aspects, or in two\ndifferent states, in the ideal order and in the real.\n\nWhen we consider essence abstracted from existence, the object is the\nunion of the properties which give to beings such or such a nature;\nwe abstract their existence or non-existence, and attend only to\nwhat they would be were they to exist. The condition of existence is\neither expressly or impliedly involved in all that we affirm or deny\nof properties; but when we consider essence realized or existing,\nwe do not compare property with property but the thing with itself.\nIn this case, non-existence does not imply contradiction; for when\nexistence disappears, the essence also disappears, with all that it\nincluded. There would be a contradiction were we to assert that essence\nimplies existence, and to endeavor, while the former remains, to make\nthe latter disappear, which is not verified in this supposition. The\nequality of the radii of a circle cannot fail, so long as the circle\ndoes not fail; and the contradiction would be to make the radii unequal\nwhile the circle continues to be a circle; but were the circle to cease\nto be a circle, there would be no reason why the radii should not be\nunequal. Essence is the same as existence; so long as there is essence,\nso long will there be existence; if the essence fail the existence\nwill likewise fail; where, then, is the contradiction? Life is of the\nessence of man, and yet man dies; we may then say man is destroyed, and\ntherefore there is in this no contradiction. If the essence cease to\nexist, it also will be destroyed, and existence, which is identified\nwith it, may fail without any contradiction.\n\n93. The scholastics taught that the being whose essence was the same\nas its existence would be infinite and absolutely immutable, because,\nsince existence is the complement in the line of being or of act, it\ncould receive nothing more. This difficulty also originates in the\nequivocal sense of words. What is meant by _complement_ in the line\nof being or act? If it mean that nothing can supervene to essence\nidentified with existence, here is a begging of the question, since\nwhat was to be proved is asserted. If it mean that existence is the\ncomplement in the line of being or act in the sense that, given it,\nnothing more is wanted to make the things, whose existence it is,\nreally existing, an indubitable truth is advanced, but not one from\nwhich what was to be demonstrated can be inferred.\n\n94. It would seem, therefore, that there is no real distinction in\nthings corresponding to the distinction between essence and existence\nin our conceptions. Essence is not distinguished from existence, but it\ndoes not therefore cease to be finite, nor existence to be contingent.\nIn God existence is identified with essence; but in such a manner, that\nhis non-existence implies contradiction, and his essence is infinite.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIII.\n\nKANT'S OPINION OF REALITY AND NEGATION.\n\n\n95. Kant numbers among his categories reality and negation, or\nexistence and non-existence, and, conformably to his principles,\ndefines them thus: \"Reality is a pure conception of the understanding;\nit is what corresponds, in general, to any sensation whatever,\nconsequently that whose conception denotes a being in itself, in time.\nNegation is that whose conception represents a not-being in time.\nThe opposition of these two things consists in the difference of the\nsame time, as full or void. Since then, time consists solely in the\nform of the intuition, and consequently in the form of the objects\nas phenomena, it follows that that which in them corresponds to the\nsensation, is the transcendental matter of all objects, as things\nin themselves, essential reality. Every sensation has a degree or\nintensity, by which it may fill more or less the same time, that is,\nthe inward sense relatively to the representation of an object, until\nit be reduced to nothing = 0 = negation.\"\n\nThere is in this passage a fundamental error which ruins the whole\nbasis of all intelligence: there is also much confusion in his\napplication of the idea of time.\n\n96. According to Kant, reality alone refers to sensations; therefore\nthe idea of being will be the idea of the phenomena of sensibility in\ngeneral; this idea will mean nothing, if applied to the non-sensible;\nthe very principle of contradiction will necessarily be limited to the\nsphere of sensibility; and we neither shall know, or be able to know\nany thing without the sensible order. Such are the consequences of this\ndoctrine; let us now examine the solidity of the principle from which\nthey flow.\n\n97. Were the idea of reality only the idea of the sensible in\ngeneral, we could never apply it to non-sensible things, which,\nhowever, experience teaches we can do. We speak incessantly of the\npossibility and even of the existence of non-sensible beings, and we\neven distinguish the phenomena of our mind into those belonging to\nsensibility, and those which correspond to the purely intellectual\norder. The idea of being, therefore, for us, denotes a general\nconception non-circumscribed by the sensible order.\n\n98. Kant will answer that the applications we make of this idea,\nextending it beyond the sphere of sensibility, are vain illusions\nexpressed in unmeaning words. To this we reply.\n\nI. There is now no question of ascertaining whether the applications of\nthe idea of being or reality beyond the sensible order be founded or\nunfounded; there is question only of ascertaining what it is that this\nidea represents to us, whether the object represented be illusory or\nnot. Kant, when defining reality, regards it as one of his categories,\nand consequently, as one of the pure conceptions of the understanding.\nTo make his definition good, he ought to employ this conception in its\ngreatest possible extent: but as he has demonstrated that conception,\nin itself, is not limited to the sphere of sensibility, it must follow\nthat his definition is inadmissible. Had he said that the applications\nof the conception beyond the sensible order were unfounded, he would\nindeed have erred, but would not have destroyed conception itself;\nyet he equivocates not only in the uses of conception, but also in\nits nature, which he can only ruin, if he limit it to the sphere of\nsensibility.\n\nII. The principle of contradiction is founded in the idea of being,\nand extends as well to the non-sensible as to the sensible. It would\nfollow, were we to admit Kant's doctrine, that the principle of\ncontradiction, \"It is impossible for a thing to be and not to be at the\nsame time,\" would be equivalent to this proposition; \"It is impossible\nfor a phenomenon of sensibility to appear and not to appear at the same\ntime.\" Evidently neither philosophy nor common sense ever gave such a\nmeaning to the principle of contradiction. When the impossibility of\na thing's being and not being at the same time is affirmed, this is\nasserted in general, and abstraction is absolutely made of the things\npertaining or not pertaining to the sensible order. Were it not thus,\nwe should be obliged to say that non-sensible beings are absolutely\nimpossible, which even Kant does not venture to maintain, or, supposing\nthem to exist, to doubt whether the principle of contradiction is\napplicable to them. Who sees not the absurdity of such a doubt,\nand that, if it be admitted for a single instant, all intelligence\nis destroyed? If we limit the generality of the principle of\ncontradiction, the impossibility is no longer absolute: and supposing\nit to fail in certain cases, who shall assure us that it does not in\nall?\n\nIII. Kant himself admits the distinction between the phenomena of\nsensibility and purely intellectual conceptions: with him, therefore,\nreality comprises something more than the sensible. Purely intellectual\nconceptions are a reality, are something at least as subjective\nphenomena of our mind, and yet are not sensible, as Kant himself\nconfesses; he therefore falls into a contradiction, when he limits the\nidea of reality to the purely sensible.\n\n99. Kant conceives reality and negation only as filling, or leaving\nvoid, time, which, in his opinion, is the primitive form of our\nintuitions, and a kind of back-ground upon which the mind sees all\nobjects, even its own operations. According to this doctrine, the ideas\nof time precede those of reality and negation, since only in relation\nto it are the two latter conceivable. And now we see the singularity\nof a form, or whatever else it be called, to which the ideas of\nreality and negation are made to refer when nothing is conceivable\nwithout the idea of reality. Kant, scrupulous as he is in the analysis\nof the elements of our mind, and contemptuous as he is towards all\nmetaphysicians who preceded him, ought to have explained to us the\nnature of this form in which we see reality, and which, nevertheless,\nis not contained in the idea of reality. If it is something, it will be\na reality; and if it is not something, it will be a pure nothing; and\nconsequently, it cannot be a form which can, by filling and becoming\nvoid, present to our mind the ideas of reality or negation. It would\nbe easy to show, by an abundance of reason, the German philosopher's\nequivocation, when he so inexactly determines the relations between\ntime and the idea of being; but as we propose to explain at length the\nidea of time, we will pass over here what belongs to another part of\nthis work.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIV.\n\nRECAPITULATION AND CONSEQUENCES OF THE DOCTRINE CONCERNING THE IDEA OF\nBEING.\n\n\n100. We wish now to recapitulate the doctrine brought out in the\npreceding chapters, so that it may be seen at a glance in all its\nbearings and connections.\n\nThe idea of being is so fruitful in results, that we must sound it\nunder all its aspects, and never lose sight of it in investigating\ntranscendental philosophy.\n\n101. We have the idea of _ens_, or of being in general; reason and our\ninward sense both attest it.\n\n102. This idea is simple, and cannot be resolved into other elements:\nit expresses a general reason of things, and its nature is in a\ncertain manner destroyed if it be mingled with particular ideas. It is\nintuitive, but indeterminate to such a degree that, by itself alone, it\naffords us no idea of a real or possible being. We not only know that\nevery being is, but that it is _some thing_ which is its predicate:\neven the Infinite Being is not only a being, but is an intelligent\nand free being, and formally possesses all perfections which imply no\nimperfection.\n\n103. The idea of being may express either simple existence, in which\ncase it is substantive, or the relation of a predicate with a subject,\nand then it is copulative. In the proposition, \"the sun _is_,\" being is\nsubstantive, that is, expresses existence; in the proposition, \"the sun\n_is luminous_,\" being is copulative, that is, it denotes the relation\nof the predicate with a subject.\n\n104. The ideas of identity and distinction originate in the ideas of\nbeing and of not-being; and thus the idea of copulative being, which\naffirms the identity of a predicate with a subject, flows also in a\nmanner from the idea of substantive being.\n\n105. Being, which is the principal object of the understanding, is not\nthe possible inasmuch as possible. We conceive possibility only in\norder to actuality. Possibility flows from actuality, not actuality\nfrom possibility. We could not conceive pure possibility, that is,\npossibility without existence, did we not conceive finite beings in\nwhose idea being is not of necessity involved, and of whose appearance\nand disappearance we are incessantly reminded by experience.\n\n106. The understanding perceives being, and this is a condition\nindispensable to all its perceptions; but the idea of being is not the\nonly one offered to it, since it knows different modes of being, which,\nby the very fact that they are _modes_, add something to the general\nand absolute idea of existence.\n\n107. When we consider the essences of things, and abstract their\nreality, our cognitions always involve this condition,--if they exist.\nThere can be only a conditional science of the purely possible,\ninsomuch as it is not; that is, provided the object pass from\npossibility to reality. We must, in order to establish pure possibility\nso that it may have necessary relations, subject to the condition of\nexistence, have recourse to a necessary being, origin of all truth.\n\n108. The essences of things in the abstract mean nothing, nor can they\nbecome the object of affirmation or negation, unless we suppose a\nnecessary being in which is the reason of the relations of things, and\nof the possibility of their existence.\n\n109. Pure truth, independent of all understanding, of all being created\nor uncreated, is an illusion, or rather an absurdity. With pure nothing\nthere is no truth. Truth cannot be _atheistic_; without God there is no\ntruth.\n\n110. We not only know being, but also not-being. We have an idea of\nnegation, and it always refers to some being. Absolute nothing cannot\nbe the object of intelligence. The idea of not-being has its own\npeculiar fecundity; combined with that of being, it gives the principle\nof contradiction, engenders the ideas of distinction and multiplicity,\nand makes negative judgments possible.\n\n111. The idea of being does not flow from sensations; neither is\nit innate, in the sense that it pre-exists in our understanding as\na type prior to all perceptions. There is no reason why it may not\nbe called innate, if this mean only a condition _sine qua non_ of\nall our intellectual acts, and consequently of the exercise of our\ninnate faculties. The idea of being is mingled in every intellectual\nperception, but it is not offered to us with perfect clearness and\ndistinctness until we separate it by reflection from the particular\nideas which accompany it.\n\n112. Essence is not distinguished from existence even in finite\nbeings. It is a distinction in conceptions, to which there is no real\ndistinction corresponding.\n\n113. The identity of essence with existence does not involve the\nnecessity of finite things. The arguments by which some pretend to\nestablish this consequence are founded upon an ambiguous meaning of\nwords.\n\n114. Kant's opinion, which limits the idea of reality, and that also of\nnegation, to the purely sensible order, would destroy all intelligence,\nsince it overthrows the very principle of contradiction. This doctrine\nof the German philosopher is also in opposition with what he himself\ntaught concerning purely intellectual conceptions, distinct from\nsensible representations. When he refers the ideas of reality and\nnegation to that of time, as the primitive form of the inward sense,\nhe leaves out of the idea of reality what no less pertains to it, and\npresents the idea of time under a point of view wholly equivocal.\n\n115. As sensible representation is based upon the finite intuition\nof extension, so the perceptive faculties of the pure understanding\nreceive the idea of being as their foundation. In the same manner\nthat extension is presented to sensibility as limitable, and from\nlimitability results figurability, and consequently all the objects\nof geometrical science; so also does the idea of not-being, combined\nwith that of being, fecundate in a manner the metaphysical sciences.\nThe parallelism of the two ideas, extension and being, is not of such\na nature as to render the former independent of the latter. So far\nas science is concerned, the idea of extension is sterile, if it be\nnot combined with the general idea of being and not-being. This may\nbe shown in many ways; but it will suffice to recollect that geometry\ncannot take a single step without the principle of contradiction, into\nwhich the ideas of being and of not-being enter.[24]\n\n[24] See L. IV., C. V.\n\n116. All our cognitions flow from the idea of being and not-being,\ncombined with intuitive ideas. We shall have occasion in the following\nbooks to remark this admirable fecundity of an idea, which, although it\ncannot of itself teach any thing, can yet, when united with others, and\nmodified itself in various ways, so illuminate the intellectual world\nas to merit to be called the object of understanding.\n\n\n\n\nBOOK SIXTH.\n\nUNITY AND NUMBER.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I.\n\nPRELIMINARY CONSIDERATIONS ON THE IDEA OF UNITY.\n\n\n1. Before analyzing the idea of number, let us examine its simplest\nelement, unity. Number is a connection of unities. We cannot know what\nnumber is, if we do not know what unity is.[25]\n\n[25] See L. V., C. X.\n\n2. What is unity? When is a thing one? We all seem to know what unity\nis, since upon it we found the fabric of all our arithmetic cognitions.\nWe all know when a thing is one, and we never equivocate on the meaning\nof the word. In this the learned and the unlearned stand on the same\nfooting. The word _one_, in our language, has only one meaning for\nall who understand it. The same may be said of the word which in\nother languages expresses the same idea. When we meet the figure 1,\nwhich corresponds to this idea, and expresses it in a general manner,\nabstracting the difference of idioms, all men understand and apply it\nin the same manner.\n\n3. The idea of unity is the same in all men; it is a common patrimony\nof the human race. It is not bound to this or that object, nor to this\nor that act of the mind; it extends to all in the same manner. Even\ncomposite and multiple things are called one only, inasmuch as they\nparticipate in a general idea. The indivisible point is one. The line\ncomposed of many points could not be one were there not a contiguous\nenchainment of these points, and did they not all unite to form _one_\nobject, which gives us _one_ impression, and is submitted to _one_ act\nof our understanding.\n\n4. The idea of unity is not a particular sensation, since it applies\nto all; neither is it sensation in general, since it pertains to\nwhat is not sensation. The sensation of color is one; so, also, the\nconsciousness of the _me_ is one, although this is not a sensation.\nThe size of the rectangle which I see is one, and the relation of the\nequality of its angles is also one, but is not a sensation.\n\n5. The idea of unity is a simple idea, and accompanies our mind from\nits first steps; we find it everywhere, and understand it well, but\ncannot explain it as we would, because it is simple, and cannot be\ndecomposed and expressed by various words. We do not mean to say,\nhowever, that we must abjure all explanation of it; we only propose to\nwarn the reader of the kind of explanation he may expect, which can be\nno other than the analysis of the fact, inasmuch as it is an object,\nand of the phenomenon as presented to our mind.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\nWHAT IS UNITY.\n\n\n6. The scholastics were right in teaching that every being is one, and\nthat whatever is one is being. Unity is a general attribute of every\nbeing, but is not distinct from it. However little we reflect, we\ncannot fail to perceive that unity and being are not distinguished:\nthe unity of unity, by itself, offers us nothing real or even possible.\nWhat then would become of unity, if nothing but unity? This idea is\ninvolved in that of being; it is an aspect of it, a reason under which\nbeing is presented to the understanding.\n\n7. But what is the conception of unity under which beings are presented\nto us? There is unity in the object when there is no distinction in\nthe conception presenting it; and there is no distinction, when the\nperception of relative _not-being_ is not combined in the object with\nthat of _being_. We have unity whenever we perceive an object simply.\nSuppose that we perceive the object B. No matter what B is, it will to\nus be always one, unless we perceive it as composed of C, D, one of\nwhich is not the other. If we perceive in the object B, a distinction\nbetween C and D, unity disappears.\n\nEvidently when we are aware of this composition we can abstract it and\nsimply consider the result, the whole, B; and then unity appears anew.\n\n8. We see by this that unity may be either real or fictitious. It is\nreal and existing when there is no distinction in the thing either real\nor apparent; it is fictitious in those composites which of themselves\ninclude distinct things that may be offered to the understanding,\ninasmuch as they are subordinated to one unity of order, abstraction\nmade of the real distinction contained in them.\n\n9. The schoolmen sometimes defined what is _one_ to be, \"ens indivisum\nin se, et divisum ab aliis.\" The former part seems sufficiently exact\nif by _indivisum_ is meant _non-distinctum_ and not _non-separatum_;\nbut the second part must be regarded at the best as superfluous. If\nthere existed only one most simple and sole being, it would yet be one,\nalthough we could not say that it was divided from others, _divisum ab\naliis_; for as there would be _no others_ it could not be divided from\nthem. This part of the definition is therefore superfluous.\n\n10. It is no solution of the difficulty to say that this one being is\ndivided from others, real or possible, and that in the supposition of\none only being, others are possible although not real. The only being\nwould be _really one_, and the division from others would be only\n_possible_; since there can be no real distinction between two terms\nwhen one of them is only possible. The division from others, _divisis\nab aliis_, therefore is not a necessary element of unity, because unity\nis real, and this element is only possible.\n\n11. However, in confirmation of this doctrine, we may remark, that in\ncommon parlance, unity is opposed to distinction, and there is no unity\nwhere there is no distinction. If the only being be not conceived as\nmultiple there can be no distinction; and this is so independently of\nits being compared with the rest. The words, _others_, and _the rest_,\nsuppose single beings; the idea of unity precedes that of distinction;\nbeings are not considered as distinct between themselves until after\nthey are conceived as individually single.\n\n12. It seems, therefore, that a single being ought to be defined\nas _ens indivisum in se_, or a being which includes no division.\nUnity, then, will depend upon non-distinction. If non-division\ndenote _non-distinction_, there will be real unity; but if it denote\n_non-separation_ or re-union, we shall only have a fictitious unity.\nThe molecules without extension, of which many suppose matter to be\ncomposed, would be really _one_, because there is no distinction in\nthem. Bodies are fictitiously _one_ because their composite parts\nthough united are really distinct.\n\n13. A difficulty may be raised by asking whether a being, indivisible\nin itself, but not divided from others, would be really _one_, for\nin case it would not be _one_, it might be inferred that we had\nunjustly censured the definition of the schoolmen, since whatever\nwants the second property required by the definition would not be one.\nWe reply, then, a being that includes no distinction in itself, and\nis not distinguished from others, would indeed be one, but in such a\ncase there would be no _others_, since they cannot be when there is no\ndistinction. In such an hypothesis, there would be only one unity, the\nunity of pantheism, the _great all_, the absolute in which all things\nwould be identified.\n\n14. We have already said that the unity which is confounded with being,\nis not the unity which originates number. We here in fact encounter\ntwo different conceptions of unity, the one marking only want of\ndistinction, and the other expressing the property of engendering\nnumber. But we are not thence to infer that the one which is identified\nwith being is distinct from that which engenders number. All beings,\none in themselves, but distinct from each other, no matter what they\nmay be, may be conceived under the idea of number. The number _three_\nenters into the august mystery of the Trinity, and we say with all\ntruth that in God there are _three_ persons.\n\n15. It is not necessary that the unity which engenders number should\nbe real; it suffices if it be fictitious. When we take a foot measure\nfor unity, we employ a fictitious unity, since the foot is composed of\nparts, but the number which results therefrom is, nevertheless, a true\nnumber.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\nUNITY AND SIMPLICITY.\n\n\n16. Real unity and simplicity are identical. What is really one has no\ndistinction in itself; nor is it composed of parts, of which it can be\nsaid, this _is not_ that. Evidently simplicity requires nothing more;\nthe simple is opposed to the composite, to what is formed of many\nbeings whereof one _is not_ the other.\n\n17. We meet this simplicity in none of the objects of our intuitions,\nexcepting the acts of our own mind; so that even when we know, by\ndiscursion, that there are substances really one or simple, we do not\nsee them in themselves.\n\nExtension consists essentially of parts; whence it happens that we\nnever encounter real unity or simplicity in the corporeal world as\nobject of our sensibility. But as the composite must be resolved\ninto the simple, as it is hard to proceed _ad infinitum_, we infer\nthat the corporeal universe itself is a union of substances which,\nwhether called points without extension, or any thing else, cannot be\ndecomposed into others; for which reason they are really one, or simple.\n\n18. Hence we conclude that substances may be said to be in a certain\nmanner simple; and that things called composite are unions of\nsubstances, which in their turn form a third substance by virtue of\na law presiding over them and giving them that unity which we call\nfactitious.\n\n19. We cannot, then, do less than to remark that the transcendental\nanalysis refutes those who deny simplicity to thinking beings, since we\nhave seen that simplicity is prior to composition, which can neither be\nnor be conceived if it be not presupposed. Simplicity is a necessary\nlaw of every being: a composite being ought to be called a union of\nbeings, rather than a being.\n\n20. We have said that simple substances are not objects of our\nintuition, which has none worthy to be called simple excepting the\nacts of our mind. The reason of this is, that the principal medium of\nour intuition is sensibility, which is founded upon representations,\nthemselves based upon extension. There can be no doubt that the acts\nof our mind, given us by intuition, in the inward sense are perfectly\nsimple; for who can decompose a perception, a judgment, an act of the\nreason or of the will?\n\n21. The perception of a certain object requires preparatory acts;\nand the same may be said of judgments and ratiocinations; yet these\noperations are in themselves exceedingly simple, and cannot be divided\ninto various parts. Simplicity is met with alike in the acts of the\nwill, whether of the pure, intellectual, or sensible will. How shall we\ndivide such acts as these into parts: _I desire_, _I do not desire_, _I\nlove_, _I abhor_, _I suffer_, _I rejoice_?\n\n22. We must take care not to confound the multiplicity of the acts with\nthe acts themselves; there may be many acts, but in themselves they are\nsimple. Thoughts, impressions and affections continually succeed one\nanother in our mind; these phenomena are all distinct from each other,\nas is proved by their existing at different times, some at one time\nwithout the others, and by some being incompatible with others, because\ncontradictory; but each individual phenomenon is by itself incapable of\ndecomposition, and admits in itself no distinction into various parts;\nwherefore, it is simple.\n\n23. True unity, therefore, is only found in simplicity; where there is\nno true simplicity, there may be factitious, but not real, unity; since\neven when there is no separation, there may be distinction between the\nvarious parts of which the composite is formed.\n\n24. It may be inferred from this that _indistinctum_ ought, perhaps, to\ntake the place of _indivisum_ in the definition of a one being; because\ndistinction is opposed to unity of identity, and division to union.\nAbsence of division is all that factitious unity requires; but real\nunity demands that there be no distinction. However closely united two\nthings may be, if one is not the other they are distinct, and cannot,\nin strict metaphysical language, be called one.\n\n25. The object of these observations is only to fix our ideas, not to\nmodify our language. In common parlance, the idea of unity is used in\na less rigorous sense, and, far from opposing this use, we readily\naccord it a reasonable foundation. There results from the union of two\nreally distinct things, a conjunction, rightly called one so far as it\nalso is subjected to a certain unity; and, were it not permitted to use\nthis word in a sense less rigorous than that exacted by metaphysical\nanalysis, we should be under the necessity of excluding unity from the\ngreat mass of objects. Simple substances, we have said, are not offered\nto us in immediate intuition, and we see compositions rather than their\ncomponent elements. Could we apply unity only to simple elements,\nscience would be greatly reduced, language would be impoverished, and\nliterature and the fine arts would be despoiled of unity, one of their\ncharacteristic perfections.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\nORIGIN OF THE TENDENCY OF OUR MIND TO UNITY.\n\n\n26. Since we encounter multiplicity in all sensible objects, which are\nthose chiefly demanding our attention, how does our mind acquire the\nidea of unity? In science, in literature, in the arts, and in every\nthing, we seek unity; and whence this irresistible tendency towards\nunity, which makes us seek a factitious when we cannot find a real\nunity, and this, too, notwithstanding the multiplicity presented by all\nthe objects of our perception?\n\n27. Two origins, if we mistake not, may be assigned to this tendency\ntowards unity, the one objective, the other subjective. The former\nconsists in the very character of unity in which the object of the\nunderstanding is mainly comprised; the other is the unity found in the\nintelligent being, and which it experiences in itself. We will explain\nthese ideas more at length.\n\n28. Unity is being; every being is one; and, properly speaking, being\nis not found without unity. Let us take a composite object: in it we\ndiscover two things; the simple component elements of it, and the\nunion of them. The being, properly speaking, does not consist in the\nunion, but in the united elements. The union is a mere relation, not\neven possible without the elements to be united. On the other hand,\nthese elements in themselves, abstracted from their union, are true\nbeings, existed before, and will exist after their union. What is an\norganized body? An aggregation of molecules united under a certain law,\nconformably to a principle presiding over their organization. The\nparts existed before their organization, and will continue to exist\nafter its destruction. The being, therefore, properly consisted in the\nelements; and the organization was a relation of them among themselves.\n\n29. Organization requires a principle to rule it, and subject its\nfunctions to determinate laws. Thus we see that even relation is\nsubject to unity, to the unity of end and to the unity of a ruling and\ndirecting principle.\n\n30. It is inconceivable how the union of distinct things can have any\nmeaning, or lead to any result, if unity do not preside over it. In\nobjects submitted to our experience, things are united in three ways:\nby juxtaposition in space; by co-existence in time; and by association\nin the exercise of their activity. The elements constitutive of\nextension are united in the first way; all objects belonging to the\nsame time, in the second; and in the third all those which unite their\nforces and direct them to one and the same end.\n\n31. The union consisting in the continuity of elements in space, has no\nvalue in the eyes of science, save inasmuch as there is an intelligent\nbeing who perceives the forms resulting from this continuity, by\nreducing them to unity under ideal types. Four lines of points,\nso disposed as to form a quadrilateral figure, have no scientific\nmeaning until there comes an intelligence and perceives the form of a\nquadrilateral figure under the aspect of unity. We do not deny that the\nquadrilateral figure exists independently of intellectual perception:\nthese lines will certainly exist, and be arranged in the same manner,\nalthough we prescind all intelligence; but this disposition in the\nquadrilateral form is a relation, not a being distinct from the\naggregation of the elements disposed; and this relation, of itself\nalone, is no object of intelligence except inasmuch as presented to it\nunder the unity of the quadrilateral form.\n\nThe intelligence in search of a true being, can find none, save in\nelements; and if it wishes to perceive their relation, it must recur to\nthe unity of form.\n\n32. Co-existence in time, is a relation, which, of itself alone,\nneither gives any thing to, nor takes any thing from objects. These\nexist independently of this relation; for they must, of necessity,\nexist, in order to co-exist. This relation denotes something\nperceptible to the understanding, only as it is presented to it under\nunity, which, in this case, is unity of time, as in the former it was\nunity of space.\n\n33. Neither has the association of activities any meaning, except when\nit expresses the convergence of forces towards one and the same object.\nIf unity be wanting to the point of their direction, their union will\nexpress nothing, and the intelligence will have for its object only\nscattered and unrelated activities.\n\n34. We have then shown that unity is a law of our understanding,\nfounded upon the very nature of things. Absolute being is never found\nin the composite, but only in the simple, and relative being is not\neven conceivable, if it be not submitted to unity.\n\n35. We discover in the very nature of our mind, the second origin of\nits tendency to unity. It in itself is one, is simple, and therefore\ndisposed to assimilate every thing to itself under this same unity\nand simplicity. It feels that it is one in the midst of multiplicity,\npermanent even in succession, and under all the immense variety of\nsensible phenomena, intellectual and moral, which it unceasingly\nexperiences. The inward sense attests with irresistible certainty the\nidentity of the _me_. This unity, this identity, is as certain, as\nevident to the child who begins to feel pleasure or pain, and is sure\nthat he is one and the same that experiences both impressions, as\nthey are to the philosopher who has spent long years in profoundly\ninvestigating the idea of the _me_ and the unity of consciousness.\n\nThe unity and simplicity which we experience in ourselves force us\nto reduce the composite to the simple, the multiple to the one. The\nperception of things the most composite refers to a consciousness\nessentially one: even were we to perceive the whole complicated\nuniverse by a single act, this act would be most simple, since\notherwise the _me_ could not say, _I perceive_.\n\n36. Two reasons, then, exist why our mind in all things seeks unity.\nObjects are unintelligible, except so far as subjected to a certain\nperceptible unity, to a form, under which the multiple is made one, and\nthe composite simple. The object of the understanding is being, and\nbeing consists in the simple. The composite involves an aggregation of\nsimple elements with the relation called _union_; but unless this be\npresented under a certain unity, it does not constitute a perceptible\nobject.\n\nWithout the indivisible unity of consciousness, no intelligent subject\nis conceivable. Every intelligent being requires this link to unite\nthe variety of phenomena of which it is the subject. If this unity\nfail, the phenomena become an informal aggregation, unrelated among\nthemselves: intellectual acts without an intelligent being.\n\nThe tendency to unity originates in the perfection of our mind, and is\nitself a perfection; but it needs to be carefully watched, lest it go\nastray, and seek real unity there, where only a factitious unity can be\nfound. This exaggeration is the cause of pantheism, the fatal error of\nour day. Our mind is one, so also is the infinite essence, cause of all\nfinite beings; but the aggregation of these beings is not one, for even\nwhen united by many ties, they cease not to be distinct. There is in\nthe world unity of order, of harmony, of origin, and of end; but there\nis no absolute unity. Number also enters into unity of harmony, but it\nis incompatible with absolute unity, as reason and experience both show.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V.\n\nGENERATION OF THE IDEA OF NUMBER.\n\n\n37. Unity is the first element of number, but does not of itself alone\nconstitute number, which is not unity, but the collection of unities.\n\n38. _Two_ is a number. What is our idea of the number _two_? Evidently\nit is not confounded with its sign, for signs are many and very\ndifferent, but it is one and always the same.\n\n39. It would seem at first sight that the idea of two is independent\nof the mode of its generation, and that, being one, it may be formed\nby addition or subtraction, by adding one to one, or taking one\nfrom three: 1 + 1 = 2; 3-1 = 2. But if we reflect upon these two\nexpressions, we shall see that the latter is impossible without the\nformer. We should not know that 3-1 = 2 if we did not previously know\nthat two entered into the composition of three, and how it entered. We\ncould know nothing of this had we not already the idea of two, and this\nidea is nothing else than the perception of this sum.\n\n40. The idea of two is no sensation, for it extends alike to the\nsensible and the non-sensible, to the simultaneous and the successive.\nIn itself it is simple, its object is composite.\n\n41. Since the collection of objects is small in two, the imagination\ncan easily figure to itself what the understanding perceives; and the\nidea seems clearer to us because made sensible by a representation. The\nidea of addition made, _in facto_, that is, the idea of the sum, enters\ninto that of two, but not of addition _in fieri_. Our idea of this\nnumber is perfectly clear, and yet we do not continually think of one\nplus one.\n\n42. The idea of two refers to the simultaneous as well as to the\nsuccessive; but our mind does not discover it until after it has the\nidea of succession. The object of this perception is the relation of\nunited things; the understanding perceives them as such, and then only\nhas it the idea of two.\n\n43. Neither the successive nor simultaneous perception of two objects\nunaccompanied by relation is the idea of two. Hence the saying: a man\nand a horse do not make two, but only one and one; and the reason of\nthis is that the man and the horse are represented to the understanding\nby their difference, not by their resemblance; and things must be\npresented to the mind under a common idea in order to give number.\nThus, if we abstract their difference, and consider them only as\nanimals, or corporeal beings, or beings simply, or things, they will\nmake two.\n\n44. In objects, then, totally unlike, or not comprehended under some\ncommon idea, there can be no number. Abstract number is number by\nexcellence; because it eliminates all that distinguishes the things\nnumbered, and considers them only as beings, consequently as similar,\nas contained in the general idea of being. Concrete numbers are\nonly numbers so far as they participate in this property. _Two_ is\napplicable to one horse and another horse, but not to a horse and a\nman, unless we identify them under the idea of animal, and abstract\nrationality and irrationality. Concrete number requires a common\ndenomination; otherwise it is not number.\n\n45. The idea of distinction, that is, that the one is not the other,\nenters into the idea of two, so that this idea necessarily involves an\naffirmation and a negation. The affirmation is of the real, possible,\nor imaginary existence of the things counted; the negation is of the\none with respect to the other. Affirmation without distinction or\nnegation involves identity. The idea of two, as well as that of every\nother number, includes the ideas of identity and distinction. The\nidentity is of each extreme with itself; the distinction is of the\nextremes among themselves. Identity in the thing is the thing itself:\nidentity in the idea is the simple perception of the thing. Distinction\nin the thing is the negation of it with respect to others: distinction\nin the idea is the perception of negation. We always perceive a thing\nas identical, and consequently every perception includes the idea\nof unity. But we do not always, when we perceive a thing, observe\nits negation with respect to others, and consequently do not always\nperceive number. The idea of number originates in comparison, when we\nsee an object which _is not_ another.\n\n46. The ideas of being, distinction, and similarity enter into that\nof two. The idea of being, because nothing cannot be counted: that\nof distinction, or negation of the one being the other, because the\nidentical does not constitute number: that of similarity, because\nthings are only numbered when abstraction is made of their difference.\nBeing is the basis of perception; distinction, of comparison; and\nsimilarity, of union. Perception begins with unity, proceeds with\ndistinction, and ends with similarity, which is a kind of unity. The\nperception of this similarity unites what is distinct; but the union\nneed not always be of the things, but may be in the idea comprising\nthem. There are two poles of the world, but they are not united. The\nperception of the number two requires something more than the simple\nperception of objects; they must be susceptible of comparison, and\nconsequently united in a common idea. This perception, therefore,\ndemands comparison and abstraction, and this is why animals cannot\nnumerate; they can neither compare nor generalize.\n\n47. The analysis of the idea of two is the analysis of all numbers; the\ndifference is not of nature, but of more and less; in the repetition of\nthe same perception.\n\n48. If any one now ask whether number be in the things, or in the mind\nalone, we reply that it is in things as in its foundation, because both\ndistinction and similarity are in the things; that is, the one is not\nthe other, and both have something in common; but it is the mind that\nsees all this.\n\n49. After having perceived the distinction and union of two objects,\nwe can also perceive another object, which will be neither the one nor\nthe other of them, and will yet be comprehended in one general idea\nwith them. This is the perception or idea of the number _three_. No\nmatter how many numbers be imagined, nothing will ever be discovered in\nany of them except a simultaneous perception of objects, distinction\nof objects, and similarity of objects. If these be determinate, we\nshall have concrete number; if they be comprised in the general idea of\nbeing, of thing, we shall have abstract number.\n\n50. The limits of our mind prevent it from comparing many objects at\none time, and from easily recollecting the comparisons it has already\nmade. To assist the memory, and the perception of these relations, we\nmake use of signs. When we pass beyond three or four, our power of\nsimultaneous perception fails, and we divide the object into groups\nwhich serve us as new units, and are expressed by signs. Ten is clearly\nthe general group in the decimal system; but before we reach the number\nten we have already formed other subalternate groups; since to count\nten, we do not say one and one and one, etc., but one and one, two;\ntwo and one, three; three and one, four, etc. Each unit added forms\na new group, which, in its turn, serves to form another. With two,\nwe form three; with three, four, and so on. This affords an idea of\nthe relation of numbers with their signs; but, as this matter is too\nimportant to be here dismissed, we will further develop it in the\nfollowing chapters.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI.\n\nCONNECTION OF THE IDEAS OF NUMBER WITH THEIR SIGNS.\n\n\n51. The connection of ideas and impressions, in a sign, is a most\nwonderful intellectual phenomenon, and at the same time of the greatest\nhelp to our mind. Were it not for this connection, we could scarcely\nreflect at all upon objects somewhat complex, and above all our memory\nwould be exceedingly limited.[26]\n\n[26] See L. IV., C. XXVIII. and XXIX.\n\n52. Condillac made some excellent remarks upon this matter: in his\nopinion, we cannot, unaided by signs, count more than three or four.\nIf, indeed, we had no sign but that of unity, we could readily count\ntwo, saying one and one. Having only two ideas, we could easily satisfy\nourselves that we had twice repeated one. But it is not so easy to be\ncertain of the exactness of our repetition when we have to count three,\nby saying one and one and one; still, this is not difficult. It is more\nso to count four, and next to impossible to go as far as ten. If we\nundertake to abstract the signs, we shall find that it is impossible\nto form an idea of ten by repeating one; and that it will be alike\nimpossible, if we employ no sign, to make sure that we have repeated\none exactly ten times.\n\n53. Suppose the sign two, and one half of the difficulty is obviated;\nthus it will be much easier to say two and one, than one and one and\none. In this supposition four will be no more difficult than was two,\nsince, just as we before said, one and one, two; we now say, two and\ntwo, four. The attention before divided four times by the repetition of\none, is now only divided twice. Six was before a hard number to count,\nbut, in the present supposition, it is as easy as three was before;\nfor, if we repeat two and two and two, we shall have six. The attention\nbefore distracted by six signs, is now distracted only by three.\nEvidently, if we continue to form the numbers three, four, and so on,\nexpressive of distinct collections, we shall gradually facilitate\nnumeration, until we attain the decimal simplicity now in use.\n\n54. It may here be asked if the actual system be the most perfect\npossible? And if facility depend upon the distribution of collections\nin signs, can there be any thing more perfect than this distribution?\nEither there is question of new signs to denote new collections, or\nof the combination of signs. There can be no number which we cannot\nexpress with our present system, and consequently there is no need of\ninventing any thing to denote new collections. New signs might perhaps\nbe invented for these collections, and these collections might possibly\nbe distributed in a simpler and more convenient manner. In this case\nwe admit an amelioration to be possible, though very difficult; but\nnone in the former. In a word, the only possible progress would be in\nexpressing better, not in expressing more.\n\n55. The sign connects many ideas which, without it, would be isolated;\nhence its necessity in many cases, its utility in all cases. With the\nword hundred, or its numerical representative, 100, we know that we\nhave one repeated a hundred times. Were this help to fail, we could not\nspeak of a hundred, base calculations upon it, or even form it. It is,\nhowever, well said that we do not succeed in forming it except by tens,\nby repeating the calculation ten ten times.\n\n56. Let it not, therefore, be thought that the idea of the number is\nthe idea of the sign; for evidently the same idea of ten corresponds to\nthe word ten, whether written, spoken, or numerically represented by\nthe figures 10, although these three signs are very different. Every\nlanguage has a word of its own to express ten, and all people have the\nsame idea of it.\n\n57. This last remark creates a difficulty as to what the idea of\nten consists in. We cannot say that it is the recollection of the\nrepetition of one ten times; first, because we do not think of this\nrecollection when thinking of ten; and second, because, according to\nwhat has already been said, a clear recollection of this repetition is\nimpossible. Neither is it the idea of the sign, for the idea signified\nexisted before the sign was invented, otherwise the invention would\nhave had no object, and would even have been impossible. There can be\nno sign where there is nothing to signify.\n\nThe idea of number includes more difficulties than Condillac ever\nimagined; who, if he had, after his close analysis of what facilitates\nnumeration, profoundly meditated upon the idea itself, would not\nso readily have censured St. Augustine, Malebranche, and the whole\nPlatonic school, for having said that numbers perceived by the pure\nunderstanding are something superior to those perceived by the senses.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII.\n\nANALYSIS OF THE IDEA OF NUMBER IN ITSELF AND IN ITS RELATIONS WITH\nSIGNS.\n\n\n58. In order clearly to conceive the idea of number, and the way it is\nengendered in our mind, let us study its formation in a deaf and dumb\nperson.\n\nWe have no better way of giving such a one an idea of unity than by\npresenting an object to him. Now, if we would convey to him the idea of\ntwo, we show him two fingers, then two oranges, then two books, and in\neach of these operations make a sign which must be always the same. If\nwe repeat this operation a number of times, the deaf and dumb person\nwill associate the idea of two with that of the sign, and one will\nsuggest the others; and he will endeavor to show us that he has seen\ntwo objects of some kind, by uniting the expression of the object with\nthe sign of two. The same will take place with three, or four. When we\nreach higher numbers, the sign becomes more indispensable; since the\nless easily the idea of number is represented, the more necessary is\nthe sign to secure it. But what we do to convey an idea of number to\nthe deaf and dumb person, what he himself must do to express the number\nwhich he conceives, we must all do if we would obtain the idea.\n\n59. Numeration is a repetition of operations; and the art of\nfacilitating it consists in instituting signs which recall to our\nmemory what we have done. It is an exceedingly complicated labyrinth,\nand we cannot trust ourselves to its windings with any expectation of\nfinding our way out again, if we do not take care to mark the path we\nhave followed.\n\nIt is to the admirable simplicity of the decimal system, united to\nits inexhaustible variety, that the facility and fecundity of our\narithmetic are due. Algebra, going a step beyond, expresses without\ndetermining numbers, and presents the results of its operations without\neffacing its footsteps on the road travelled, is far superior to\narithmetic, and has made the human mind take gigantic strides. But how?\nSolely by aiding the memory. Thus, the very principle that enables the\nchild to say four and one, five, instead of adding unity five times to\nunity, the dumb man to express five by a hand, a hundred by a grain,\nenables the algebraist to express the result of his longest operations\nby a formula easy of retention by the memory. Both attain their object\nsimply by aiding the memory. A grain of wheat denotes to the dumb man\nthe idea of hundred, and this he applies to all similar collections; a\nfew letters combined in a simple manner designate to the mathematician\na property of certain quantities, and this he applies to all which are\nfound in the same case.\n\n60. Numeration is only an aggregation of formulas; and the more easy\nthese are of mutual transformation with a slight modification, the more\nperfect will be the numeration. The better one knows the relations of\nthese formulas and the manner of transforming them, the better will he\nknow how to count. The greater a person's intellectual power of fixing\nsimultaneously the attention upon many formulas, and of composing them,\nthe more perfect arithmetician will he be, because the simultaneous\ncomparison of many, leads to the perception of new relations.\n\n61. What is our idea of hundred? The union of the units composing it,\na union which we have made more or less frequently when learning to\ncount. But how do we know that it is the same union? Because we have a\nformula called a hundred, expressed by a sign 100. This formula is so\neasily recollected that we have no difficulty in recollecting the idea\nof hundred and all the properties connected with it. We may be asked\nif a hundred is more than ninety. Were we under the necessity counting\none and one and one, we should be bewildered, and never succeed in\ndistinguishing the greater; but knowing as we do that to reach the\nformula hundred, we must pass by another formula ninety, and that this\nwas in ascending, we know, once for all, that hundred expresses ninety\nand something more, that is, a hundred is more than ninety. And if\nit be further inquired what is the excess, we shall not undertake to\nascertain this by adding units, but by the two formulas ninety and ten\nwhich compose the formula hundred.\n\n62. By generalization we unite many similar things in one idea. The\ngeneral idea is a kind of formula. Numeration unites in one sign many\nthings contained in a general idea, but this sign has, at the same\ntime, its own distinctive character. Thus the general idea belongs as a\npredicate to each of its particular objects; number belongs to no one\nin particular, but to all joined. We perceive in abstraction a common\nproperty, and lay aside all the particular objects which it presents;\nin numeration, we perceive similarity, but always with distinction.\nAbstraction is the result of comparison, but not comparison. Numeration\nimplies a permanent comparison, or the recollection of it.\n\n63. The idea of number is not conventional; a hundred is always a\nhundred with all its properties and relations, and this, too, prior\nto all convention and even to all human perception. The sign, and the\nsign only, is conventional. Were there no intellectual creature, and\na hundred beings distinct among themselves were to exist, there would\nreally be this number. The number three exists in the august mystery\nof the Trinity, from all eternity, and of absolute necessity. Number\nrequires only the existence of distinct things; since, however unlike\nthey may be, they always have something in common being, which may\nbe included in a general idea, and consequently they fulfil the two\nconditions necessary to number.\n\n64. The perception of being and of distinction, that is, of substantive\nbeing and of relative not-being, is the perception of number. The\nscience of the relations of every collection, with its measure, which\nis unity, is the science of numbers.\n\n\n\n\nBOOK SEVENTH.\n\nON TIME.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I.\n\nIMPORTANCE AND DIFFICULTY OF THE SUBJECT.\n\n\n1. The explanation of the idea of time is not a matter of mere\ncuriosity, but of the highest importance. To convince ourselves of\nthis we have only to consider that the explanation of the whole\nedifice of human cognitions is based upon it. The most fundamental and\nindispensable principle which supports all others, includes the idea\nof time. A thing cannot be and not be at the same time: \"impossibile\nest idem simul esse et non esse.\" The impossibility of being and of\nnot-being regards only the _simul, the same time_. Therefore, the idea\nof time necessarily enters into the very principle of contradiction.\n\n2. The idea of time is involved in all our perceptions; it extends to\nmany more objects than does the idea of space. We estimate not only the\nmovements of bodies by time, but also the operations of the mind. We\nknow that a series of thoughts may be measured by time the same as a\nseries of corporal movements.\n\n3. The idea of succession necessarily enters into that of time, and\n_vice versa_, the idea of time into that of succession. We may conceive\nthat one thing _succeeds_ another; but this would be impossible without\nsuccession, without a _before and after_, that is, without time. This\nreasoning, apparently vicious, shows, perhaps, that we must not\nexplain the ideas of time and succession, the one by the other, since\nthey are identical.\n\n4. Time does not seem to be distinct from things; for who can imagine\nduration without that which lasts, or a succession without that which\nsucceeds? Is it a substance? Is it a modification inherent in things,\nor distinct from them? Whatever is something exists; and yet we nowhere\nmeet time existing. Its nature is composed of instants divisible\nto infinity, essentially successive, and consequently incapable of\nsimultaneousness. Imagine the minutest instant you can, and it does not\nexist, for it is composed of others infinitely minute, which cannot\nexist united. To conceive an existing time, we must conceive it as\nactual, and in order to do this, we must surprise it in an indivisible\ninstant; but even this is not time; it involves no succession; it is\nnot _duration_, containing _a before and an after_.\n\n5. Nothing is easier than to calculate time, and nothing more difficult\nthan to conceive it in its essence. As to the former the learned and\nthe ignorant are on the same footing; both have equally clear ideas;\nthe latter is excessively difficult even to the most eminent men. The\npassage in the _Confessiones_ of St. Augustine, in which the Holy\nDoctor endeavors to penetrate this mystery is well known.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\nIS TIME THE MEASURE OF MOVEMENT?\n\n\n6. Time is said by many philosophers to be the measure of movement.\nThis idea is fruitful, but it needs to be illustrated.\n\nWhen we measure movement we refer to something fixed. Thus we measure\nthe rapidity with which we have traversed a certain space by noticing\nthe time denoted by a watch. But how do we measure time by a watch? By\nthe space passed over by the hand on the dial. If we reflect carefully,\nwe shall see that this is purely conventional, or rather, that it\ndepends upon an arbitrary condition. For if we suppose the time marked\nto be an hour, the space passed over by the minute hand, that is, the\ncircumference of the dial, has no relation with the hour except what\nthe artificer gave it by so constructing the watch that the minute hand\nwould make one revolution every hour. If the watchmaker had constructed\nit differently, as he did the hour hand, the time would be the same,\nbut the space passed over is very different.\n\n7. The time, therefore, indicated by the watch is no measure, save\nas itself is subject to another measure; consequently it is not the\nprimitive measure. The same can evidently be said of all other watches\nwhich must have been regulated one after another, until we come to the\nfirst of all watches. There was no other watch to regulate this; it\nfollows, therefore, that no one of the measures furnished by art is the\nprimitive measure.\n\n8. Not finding this measure in the works of man, we must seek it in\nnature; and here we discover fixed measures. If we regard the course\nof the sun, and take for unity the time it requires from the time it\nleaves the meridian until it returns, we shall have the day; this\ndivided into twenty-four parts gives us the hours. Here we have a great\nwatch which will serve to regulate all others.\n\n9. Nevertheless, however lightly we reflect upon this, we cannot help\nseeing that the solution is not so satisfactory as it seems at first\nsight.\n\nSolar time and sidereal time do not agree. Thus, if we note the moment\nwhen a star is in the meridian conjointly with the sun, we shall the\nnext day see that the star reaches the meridian a little before the\nsun. Which is right? Has the star taken just twenty-four hours, or the\nsun? If time be a fixed thing independently of movement, neither of\nthese measures corresponds exactly to time.\n\n10. This argument, which may be called practical, is corroborated by\nanother purely theoretical. If we take celestial movement for the\nmeasure of time, will it be true that whenever the movement, which\nserves as the rule, shall be verified, that there has passed a fixed\nand determinate time? If we be answered in the affirmative, we must\ninfer, that even were this movement to be accelerated or retarded,\nas, for instance, if a solar revolution were to be made with a half,\nor with twice its ordinary velocity, it would continue to mark the\nsame time, which, however, is absurd. If it be said that the movement\nis supposed to be uniform, we reply, that this is a begging of the\nquestion. Uniformity of movement consists in equal times recurring\nafter equal intervals. Did time, then, in its nature depend upon the\nmovement of the sun, or of any star, as primitive measure, neither\nuniformity nor variety would have any meaning. If the space of\ntwenty-four hours depended upon a revolution's being made, no matter in\nwhat manner whether at a snail's pace, or with the velocity of light,\nwe should never have more or less than twenty-four hours. But if these\ndepend upon another measure, if prior to them, there was a time which\nmeasured the velocity of movement, and determined whether it had been\naccelerated or retarded, then the movement of the stars is not the\nprimitive measure; they are in the same category as our watches, they\nmarked the time passed, but time has not passed because they mark it.\nTime is the measure of their movement, not their movement the measure\nof time. Movement is in time, not time in movement.\n\n11. To appeal to the movement of the superior heavens, is evidently no\nsolution of this difficulty, for what has been said of the sun, may\nalso be said of the remotest star in the firmament. Whether we appeal\nto annual, solar, or sidereal movements, the same difficulty remains.\nWould sidereal years be the same, if the movement be made with greater\nor less velocity. If they would, an absurdity would follow; if not,\nthis is not the primitive measure.\n\n12. Moreover, we perceive, when considering movement, that we seem to\nconceive of greater and less velocity; and thus the idea of time, of\nnecessity, enters into that of velocity, since velocity is the relation\nof space passed over in a given time. The idea of time is therefore\nprior to, consequently independent of, _every_ particular measure.\n\n13. We measure time by movement, and in order to measure the velocity\nof movement we need that of time. Here then, perhaps, is a vicious\ncircle; but possibly this only shows that these are correlative ideas,\nthe one explanatory of the other; or, rather, they are different\naspects of one and the same idea. The difficulty of separating them,\nand the intimate union which unites them on the one hand as much as\nit divides them on the other, confirms this conjecture. To show this,\nwe ask, what time has passed? Two hours. How do we know this? By our\ntime-piece. But what if it be too fast or too slow? The measure fails.\nThis time is thus to us as a fixed measure, prior to that of the watch\nby which we undertake to measure it. But what are these two hours, if\nwe abstract the measure of the watch, that also of the stars, and every\nother measure? Two hours, in the abstract, can be found in no category\nof real or possible beings; and we cannot, without a measure, give any\nidea of them, nor form one for ourselves. The idea of hour refers to a\ndeterminate movement of known bodies; and this in its turn refers to\nothers; and finally, we come to one in which we can discover no reason\nwhy it should be exempted from the general law to which the others are\nsubject. No farther reference being possible, all measure fails; and\nthis failing, time, by the force of analysis, vanishes.\n\n14. Therefore, the referring of time to movement, explains nothing; it\nonly expresses a thing known, and that is, the mutual relation between\ntime and movement, a relation known to the unlearned, and of constant\nand common use; but the philosophic idea stands intact; the same\ndifficulty remains; what is time?\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\nSIMILARITIES AND DIFFERENCES BETWEEN TIME AND SPACE.\n\n\n15. Time seems to us to be something fixed. An hour is neither more\nnor less than an hour, no matter how our time-pieces go, or the world\nitself; just as a cubic foot of space is always a cubic foot, neither\nmore nor less, whether occupied or not occupied by bodies.\n\n16. Time exists independent of all movement, of all succession; if\nit is something absolute, has a determinate value of its own, is\napplicable to all that changes without itself changing, the measure of\nall succession without itself being measured, what is it? That it is\nsomething accidental cannot be reconciled with its immutability and\nuniversality. Every thing lives in it, but it lives in nothing; every\nthing dies in it, but death has no power over it. When the substance\nperishes, the accident perishes; but time continues the same although\nno substance exist. Before all created beings, we conceive ages and\nages, that is, time; and after the destruction, the annihilation of all\nbeings, we still conceive a successive although unending succession,\nwhich is time. The idea, then, of time, does not demand that of the\nuniverse; it existed before it, and will survive it: but without time\nthe universe is inconceivable.\n\n17. The idea of time seems to be independent of the idea of any being;\nof all duration in it; every thing may endure in it; but it does not\nbegin or end with what endures in itself; it is applicable to all\nthat endures, but it is not itself an endurable thing. We imagine\nit to be one in the multiple, uniform in the various, fixed in the\nmovable, eternal in the perishable; and it even seems to contain some\nfeatures of the attributes of Divinity; but it is, on the other hand,\nessentially despoiled of every property excepting that of succession in\nits abstractest signification. It is essentially sterile, has no power\nof its own, no condition of being or action, and consequently leads to\nthe highest imaginations of what a pure idea really is, an abstraction,\nwhich, like space, we have imagined in the presence of things.\n\n18. The points of similarity between time and space are worthy of our\nattention. Both are infinite, immovable; both are a general measure;\nboth essentially composed of continuous and inseparable parts. Limit\nthem you cannot, determine any limit you chose, and beyond it you will\nsee an ocean extended. Your powers are impotent; beyond the highest\nheaven are unbounded abysses of space; before the beginning of things\nthere was a long chain of interminable ages.\n\nIn vain would you undertake to move space; you can only move yourself\nin it, or survey its various points. Its points are all fixed; you\nmay mark out distances and directions with respect to them, but you\ncannot change them. The result will be analogous if you attempt to move\ntime. The present instant is not the one just past, nor the one next\nto succeed; they are of necessity distinct, and of necessity exclude\neach other. Their very nature is to succeed each other. If their place\nbe changed with respect to time, it ceases to be the same. Imagine,\nif you can, that to-morrow is to-day, that to-day is yesterday. It\nis impossible for that which was at a certain time not to have then\nbeen; but this would not be impossible if time could be moved; for in\norder that what was yesterday may not be, it is necessary to convert\nyesterday into to-morrow; but this would be an absurdity. The past, the\npresent, and the future, are essentially distinct things.\n\nA simple space, a space without parts, is no space at all, it is a\ncontradiction; neither is a simple time, a time without parts, a time,\nbut is a contradiction.\n\nA space whose parts are not continuous, is not a space; neither is\na time whose parts are not continuous, a time. The parts\nof space are inseparable; you may distinguish them one from another,\ncount them one after the other, compare them one with another, and\nconsider them one after another, but you cannot separate them. All\nimaginable bodies may exist in the apartment where we write, one or\nmany, at rest or in motion; but the space which we conceive is one,\nfixed, and always the same; we can estimate its extent in cubic feet,\nif we choose, but these feet are fixed and inseparable; we cannot\nseparate one cubic foot from another, even if we would; for even while\nwe annihilate it, it is present to us, and in the same distance that we\nneed in order to conceive separation. We cannot conceive separation,\nif we do not conceive distance; nor conceive distance, if we do not\nconceive space. We separate bodies from each other, but not one space\nfrom another. Space remains with the same continuity when bodies are\nseparated, and it is by this continuity remaining unalterable that we\nmeasure the extent of their separation. The same happens with time; it\nis a chain which cannot be broken. Can we conceive three successive,\nimmediate instants, A, B, C, and then suppress B? Certainly not; such\na suppression would be impossible, or it would be a poor diversion.\nWe destroy B in our caprice, and A and C are continuous; since being\nonly separated by B, when it disappears the extremes meet. But in this\ncase it is no longer A, but B, for B is the instant which precedes C.\nWe have no other distinction than that of priority with respect to C,\nand continuity with A. When, then, by the imaginary disappearance of\nB, A is brought into contact with C, it is converted into B. Moreover,\nA is not only connected with C, but is preceded by others; if, then,\nby the disappearance of B, it makes a step, so also must the whole\ninfinite chain which precedes it. Each one is then a soldier, or rather\nno soldiery is possible, for we have taken an instant from the infinite\nchain, and so rendered it finite. Or, more distinctly; can we conceive\nyesterday or to-morrow without to-day, a future or a past without the\npresent? Evidently we cannot. Time, then, is essentially composed of\ninseparable parts.\n\n19. This similarity between time and space naturally leads us to\nbelieve that time is an abstract idea just as space is. What we have\nsaid of space is applicable to time, only with a few modifications\nexacted by the very nature of the thing. It can in no case be without\nutility, in scientific investigations, to approximate and compare\nthese great ideas, which are as immense receptacles wherein our mind\ndeposits its treasures. The actual corporeal universe, and all possible\nuniverses, are included in the idea of space; and all finite beings,\ncorporeal or incorporeal, are included in that of time.\n\n20. We may well suspect that these ideas, so intimately united to our\nperceptions, are formed in a similar manner; for it is probable that\nthey belong to the order of those primitive laws which govern the\ndevelopment of our intellect.\n\n21. The similarity between space and time must not make us ignore the\ndifferences which distinguish them.\n\nI. All the parts of space are co-existent; otherwise, that continuity\nwhich is essential to them, would be inconceivable. Time is composed\nof successive parts; to imagine them co-existent, is to destroy the\nessence of time.\n\nII. Space refers solely to the corporeal world, under only one aspect,\nthat of continuity. Time extends to all that is successive, corporeal\nor incorporeal.\n\nIII. Consequently, the idea of space exists only in the geometrical\norder, of which it is the basis. The idea of time is mingled with every\nthing, and more especially with our own acts.\n\nIV. Our soul, when reflecting upon itself, can totally prescind space,\nand forget all its relations with extended objects; but it cannot\nprescind time, which it finds necessary even to its own operations.\n\nThis last difference is a great help to the understanding in what the\nidea of time consists; and we venture to recommend it to the attention\nand memory of the reader.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\nDEFINITION OF TIME.\n\n\n22. Time is duration; but duration without something which endures, is\nan absurdity. There can then be no time without something existing. The\nduration which we conceive, after reducing every thing to nihility, is\na vain imagination; it is not an idea, but is rather in contradiction\nwith ideas.\n\nAn important consequence flows from this; it is, that time in itself,\ncannot be defined with absolute elimination of every thing to which it\nrefers. Time, then, has no proper existence; and separated from beings\nis annihilated.\n\n23. Hence, also, it follows that that infinity which we attribute to\ntime, has no rational foundation. We have no other reason to affirm\nthis infinity than a vague conception, which presents it as such; but\nwe cannot fail to perceive that this conception also exists, even if\nwe suppose all to be reduced to nothing. If, then, there is in this\nsupposition a vain diversion of the imagination, it is not an idea, but\na contradiction with ideas; and what has once deceived us, no longer\ndeserves any credit. Those infinite ages of time which we conceive\nprior to the creation, are not nothing; they are an imaginary time,\nsimilar to an imaginary space.\n\n24. Time has no necessary relation with movement, since if nothing\nwere to move, or even no bodies to exist, we should nevertheless\nconceive time in the succession of operations of our soul. This last\nis indispensable; we must have some succession of things in order to\nconceive time. If we suppose nothing to change or to be altered, a\nbeing subject to no external or internal change, having one single\nthought always the same, one single will always the same, having no\nsuccession of ideas or acts of any kind whatever, we conceive nothing\nto which the idea of time is applicable.\n\nTime is a measure; but what is it to measure in a being of this kind?\nSuccession? But there is no succession. Duration? But what is there to\nmeasure in a duration always the same, which is only the same being?\nDuration must have parts given to it before it can be measured; but\nwhat parts has it? Those of time? But this would be a begging of the\nquestion, since time is applied to it when we are inquiring whether\ntime is applicable to it. When theologians say that the existence\nof God cannot be measured by time, that there is no succession in\neternity, but that all is united in a single point, they utter a\nprofound truth; and Clarke, before ridiculing it, should have studied\nto understand it.\n\n25. Time commences with mutable things; if they perish, it perishes\nwith them. There is no succession without mutation; and consequently,\nno time.\n\n26. What, then, is time? The succession of things considered in the\nabstract.\n\nWhat is succession? Being and not-being. A thing exists; it ceases to\nexist; here we have succession. Whenever time can be calculated, there\nis succession; and whenever succession can be calculated a being and\na not-being are considered. The perception of this relation, of this\nbeing and not-being, is the idea of time.\n\n27. Time cannot exist without being and not-being; because in this,\nsuccession consists; wherever there is succession, there is some\nmutation; and there is no mutation without something being in another\nmanner, and this other manner is not possible unless the prior manner\nceases to be.\n\nSubstances, modifications, and appearances have no succession without\nthis being and not-being. What is motion? The succession of the\npositions of a body with respect to various points; and this succession\nis verified by occupying some of these positions and destroying others.\nWhat is the succession of thoughts or affections of our mind? The\nnot-being of some which were, and the being of others which were not.\n\n28. Time, then, in things, is their succession, their being and\nnot-being. Time in the understanding, is the perception of this\nmutation, this being and not-being.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V.\n\nTIME IS NOTHING ABSOLUTE.\n\n\n29. Is time something absolute? The definition given in the last\nchapter shows clearly enough that it is not. Time in things is not\nbeing only, nor not-being only, but the _relation_ of being and\nnot-being. Time in the understanding, is the perception of this\nrelation.\n\nThe measure of time is nothing else than the comparison of mutations\namong themselves. To us, those mutations which seem to be unalterably\nuniform serve as the primitive measure. For this we have taken the\nmovement of the sun. This movement varies when compared with that of\nthe stars, and ceases to be the primitive measure when referred to\nthis: and it was upon this the scholastics rested when they taught that\nthe movement of the first heavens was the primitive measure of time.\n\n30. But what if the velocity of the sun were augmented, and it should\nmake its revolution in one half of its time? Would the hours continue\nthe same? We distinguish. If this alteration should be verified solely\nin the solar movement, we should perceive the discordance between this\nand all other movements; and perceiving this alteration in the sun, we\nshould continue to refer our hours as things fixed to other measures,\nto our own movements, to our time-pieces, or to other heavenly bodies.\n\nBut if we suppose every thing to be changed at one and the same time,\nand in the same proportion; the movement of all the heavens and of\nevery thing terrestrial to be doubly accelerated, but in such a way as\nnot to increase the rapidity of our thoughts; we should indeed discover\nan alteration, but we should not know whether to attribute it to the\nworld or to ourselves; we should perceive a discrepancy between our\nthoughts and these movements, but should not know whether these were\naccelerated or our thoughts retarded.\n\nIf this rapidity be also communicated to us, so that such or such\na series of thoughts formerly corresponding to so many minutes is\nnow made in one half the number, we should then witness a perfect\ncorrespondence in all things; we could perceive no mutation. An hour,\nfor example, is to us only the perception of the relation of certain\nmutations: so long as this relation continues the same, there will be\nno alteration in the hour.\n\n31. To take away from time every idea of absolute, seems an absurdity\nto the imagination, but not to reason. This case will make this\nevident. Not the man, the best skilled in perceiving the succession of\ntime, can, if he look at no time-piece, nor refer to any measure for\ntwelve hours, say whether eleven hours and a half or twelve hours have\npassed. If he live long in this way, he will become totally incapable\nof estimating time; if locked up in a dark dungeon for several months,\nhe will believe he has spent years there. The idea, therefore, of the\nmeasure of time, is nothing absolute; it is essentially relative; it\nis the perception of the relations between various mutations. So long\nas these relations remain whole and intact, time will be to us the same.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI.\n\nDIFFICULTIES IN THE EXPLANATION OF VELOCITY.\n\n\n32. Here arises a serious difficulty: if time be nothing absolute,\ngreater or less velocity is inexplicable. This seems to result even\nfrom what we have said, that if the relation of movements be not\nchanged, any augmentation or diminution of velocity is impossible;\nbecause, if velocity be in necessary relation to time, and time itself\nbe nothing but the relation of mutations, it is inconceivable how time,\nand consequently how velocity, can be changed without changing the\nrelation of mutations. Thus it would be impossible for the velocity of\nthe whole mechanism of the universe to be changed, just as it would\nbe absurd to say that the stars and every thing that exists may now\nexperience the same changes of velocity. This would destroy the very\nidea of velocity; at least if taken as something absolute, wherein\ndifferent grades may be considered.\n\n33. Let us now examine this difficulty, which indeed deserves to be\nexamined, for it seems to contradict our most common ideas.\n\nFirst of all, we must premise that velocity is not something absolute,\nbut a relation. Physicists and mathematicians express it by a fraction\nwhose numerator is the space run over and whose denominator is the time\nconsumed. Making V the velocity, S the space, and T the time, we shall\nhave V = S/T. This shows the velocity to be essentially a _relation_;\nfor it cannot be otherwise expressed than by the ratio of the space to\nthe time.\n\n34. This mathematic formula expresses the idea we all have of velocity;\nit expresses in three letters what the unlettered man repeatedly says\nto himself. The velocity of two horses is ascertained not solely by the\nspace they have passed over, nor solely by the time they have consumed\nin their career, but by the greater or less space passed over in a\ngiven time; or by the longer or shorter time required to pass over a\ngiven space.\n\nTo deny, then, to velocity an absolute nature, is nothing new; for we\nall of us make it essentially consist in a relation.\n\n35. In the expression V = S/T two terms enter, space and time. Viewing\nthe former in the real order, abstraction made of that of phenomena, we\nmore easily come to regard it as something fixed; and we comprehend it\nin a given case without any relation. A foot is at all times a foot;\nand a yard, a yard. These are quantities existing in reality; and if\nwe refer them to other quantities, it is only to make sure that they\nare so; not because their reality depends upon the relation. A cubic\nfoot of water is not a cubic foot because the measure so says, but\non the contrary, the measure so says because there is a cubit foot.\nThe measure itself is also an absolute quantity; and in general, all\nextensions are absolute, for otherwise, we should be obliged to seek\nmeasure of measure, and so on to infinity. True, to call things large\nor small depends upon comparison; but this does not change their own\nquantity. The diameter of the earth, compared with an inch measure,\nis immense; but it is an almost imperceptible point compared with\nthe distance of the fixed stars; yet this does not prevent the inch\nmeasure, the diameter of the earth, and the distance to the fixed\nstars, from being values in themselves determinate, and independent of\neach other.[27]\n\n[27] See Lib. III., Ch. XX.\n\nIf the denominator in S/T were a quantity of the same kind as space,\nthat is, having determinate values, existing and conceivable by\nthemselves alone, the velocity, although still a relation, might also\nhave determinate values, not indeed, wholly absolute, but only in the\nsupposition that the two terms, S and T, having fixed values, are\ncompared. Thus, if we require a velocity of 4, we have only to take a\nfixed quantity of space, and another fixed quantity of time, having the\nrelation to each other of 4 to 1; and this is quite easy, when S and T\nare both absolute quantities. If, in this supposition, an acceleration\nor delay be required in the whole universe, nothing more would be\nrequired than to augment or diminish the time in which each part would\nhave to traverse its respective space. But from the difficulties which\nwe have on the one hand seen presented to the consideration of time as\nan absolute thing, and from the fact that, on the other hand, no solid\nproof can be adduced to show such a property to have any foundation, it\nfollows that we know not how to consider velocity as absolute, even in\nthe sense above explained.\n\n36. Hence a consequence not less important than striking, as to the\npossibility of a universal acceleration or retardation. If we would\nhave an acceleration or retardation of the whole machine of the\nuniverse, and should abandon all motion to which we might refer time,\nshould at once change all, not excluding the operations of our own\nsoul, we should have a problem proposed to us that appears insolvable,\nnothing less than the realization of an impossibility; the relation of\nmany terms would have to be changed without undergoing any change. If\nvelocity be only the relation of space and time, and time only the\nrelation of spaces traversed, it is the same thing to change them all\nin the same proportion, and not to change them at all; it is to leave\nevery thing as it is.\n\n37. The singularity of such consequences ought not to be a sufficient\nexcuse for abandoning them. We must not forget that we are examining\nthe common ideas of time and velocity in their most transcendental\naspect, and that it is by no means astonishing that our mind finds\nitself, as it leaves its ordinary walks, in an entirely new atmosphere,\nwherein it seems to discover contradictions. When we examine the\nideas of time and velocity, we unwittingly fall into the error of\nuniting them in the same explanation. We would prescind them; but this\nwe do only with great difficulty, and we often fall into a vicious\ncircle. Hence it is that when, by a great effort, we succeed in\nreally prescinding, the consequences that follow seem contradictory;\nbut this apparent contradiction arises solely from our not having\npersevered with due firmness in our prescision; and as, in this case,\nthe understanding starts from two different suppositions, whereas\nit believes that it starts from one alone, the results seem to it\ncontradictory, which in reality they may not be. The same thing occurs\nin the examination of the idea of space.[28]\n\n[28] See Lib. III., Chs. XII., XIII., and XIV.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII.\n\nFUNDAMENTAL EXPLANATION OF SUCCESSION.\n\n\n38. The reasons that destroy the absolute nature of time, inasmuch\nas it is subject to measure, do not seem fully to obviate another\ndifficulty, arising from the consideration of time in itself. If indeed\ntime be succession, what is this succession? It is evident that things\nsucceed each other; but if there be no _before_ or _after_, that is,\ntime existing before succession, since succession consists in some\nthings coming _after_ others, what is the meaning of succeeding each\nother? Thus, time is explained by succession, and succession by time.\nWhat is _afterwards_ but a part of time that is in relation with a\n_heretofore_?\n\n39. What we said in the fourth chapter does not seem completely to\nsolve the difficulty; for being and not-being do not form succession,\nsave only inasmuch as one comes _after_ the other, that is, inasmuch\nas it presupposes the time to be explained already to exist. There may\nbe a simultaneous being and not-being of distinct things; and there is\nin one and the same thing no repugnance between being and not-being,\nif not referred to the same time. In such a case, therefore, this is\nalways presupposed so to be; since in one and the same thing, being and\nnot-being are inconceivable unless at different instants of time. Hence\nit follows that being and not-being do not sufficiently explain time.\n\n40. This difficulty is indeed grave; and we must, in order to solve\nit, elaborate a fundamental explanation of succession. This we shall\nendeavor to do, and without in any sense supposing the idea of time.\n\n41. There are things which exclude, and things which do not exclude\neach other. When we have existence of things which exclude each other,\nwe have succession. If in a line a--------b--------c, a body be at a,\nit cannot pass to b, without ceasing to be at a. The situation at b\nexcludes that at a; and so also that at c excludes that at b. When we\nsee things exist notwithstanding this reciprocal exclusion, we find\nsuccession.\n\n42. Succession is, in reality, the existence of things mentally\nexclusive of each other. What each involves is the being of that which\nexcludes, and the not-being of that which is excluded.\n\n43. This exclusion prevails in all variations; and therefore, we find\nsuccession in every variation. Variation is the mutation of states;\nthe loss of one, and the acquisition of another; therefore, there is\nexclusion, for being excludes not-being, and not-being, being.\n\n44. When we perceive these distinctions, these exclusions realized,\nwe perceive succession, time. When we compute these exclusions, these\ndistinctions in which distinct and exclusive things are offered to us,\nsuch as being and not-being, we compute time.\n\n45. Here arises a difficulty. If succession involves exclusion, and\nthere is no succession without exclusion, it follows that things which\ndo not exclude each other are simultaneous; and from this we infer the\nabsurdity of saying, that the things happening in the time of Adam,\nwhich do not exclude those of our own time, are simultaneous. The\nmotion of the plants of Paradise excludes not that of plants in gardens\nnow existing; this motion, then, is simultaneous with that; the motion\nthat was then is the present; and the present motion was then; which is\ninconceivably absurd.\n\nThis difficulty is serious: it seems to be based upon a reason founded\nin evident truths; but it is not impossible to give a solution of it.\n\n46. Were there to exist one thing which excluded nothing, and was\nexcluded by nothing, it would be simultaneous with every thing. Know\nyou what this thing is? There is but one, God. It is therefore that the\ntheologians say, with great truth, and with a profoundness which has\nnot, perhaps, been at all times understood even by those who have made\nthe remark, that God is present to all times; that to him there is no\nsuccession, no _before_ or _after_; that to him every thing is present,\nis _now_.\n\n47. Of God alone is this true; in all else there is some exclusion,\nbeing and not-being, and therefore succession. Let us now, for example,\nexamine how the motion of the plants in our gardens is excluded by that\nof the garden of Eden. How are those of our gardens moved? By existing,\nand also by being subject to conditions necessary to motion. How do\nthey exist? By a development of the germs they themselves contain. What\nis this development? A series of motions, of being and of not-being,\nand consequently of things that exclude each other. There is, then, no\nsimultaneousness between those of the garden of Eden and those of our\nown gardens; for between the former and the first germ, there was no\nmediation other than the movement of the first development; whereas,\nbetween the movements of those of our gardens and the first germ, many\nothers have intervened. Here we have exclusion, being and not-being.\nThe number of exclusions necessary to existence is very different in\nthe two cases; therefore, there is no simultaneousness. Considering all\nthe developments, and all the changes of the orb, as a dilated series\nof terms interlaced by a mutual dependence, as in fact they are by the\nlaws of nature; and calling these terms A, B, C, D, E,--N, the plants\nof the garden of Eden belong to the term A, and those of ours, to the\nterm N.\n\n48. The non-simultaneousness of motion is proved in the same manner\nas the non-simultaneousness of existence, for motion is a manner of\nexisting. Moreover, the air which agitates the plants of our gardens\nhas been moved by another, and this other by yet another; and these\nmotions, subject to all the fixed and constant laws of nature, are\nall interlinked from the very first motion, just as the wheels are\ninterlocked in a system of machinery. But as the curvature of one wheel\nis not that of the other, so these motions are different, and exclude\none another down to the last, which is the air which moves the present\nplants.\n\n49. This explanation of succession and time, throws much light on the\nidea of eternity; and shows that eternity, or the simultaneousness of\nall existence, belongs only to the immutable being. All mutable beings,\nwhich necessarily imply a transition from not-being to being, and from\nbeing to not-being, involve a succession, if not in their substance, at\nleast in their modifications.\n\n50. This explains how the idea of time is found in almost all our\nconceptions, and is expressed in all languages. Man continually\nperceives being and not-being in all around him. He perceives it within\nhim, in the multitude of his thoughts and affections; at one time\nagreeing, at another disagreeing; sometimes connected, and sometimes\nseparated; but always distinguished from one another, always producing\ndifferent modifications in the mind: they therefore exclude each\nother, and cannot co-exist; because the existence of one excludes the\nexistence of the other.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII.\n\nWHAT IS CO-EXISTENCE?\n\n\n51. If the succession of time involves exclusion, there must be\nco-existence where there is no exclusion: therefore, supposing that\nGod has created other worlds, they must necessarily be contemporaneous\nwith the present; for it is evident that they would not be excluded;\nand as they have not the mutual relation of cause and effect like the\nphenomena of the present world, we cannot apply to them the explanation\nwhich we gave to show that the motion of the plants of Paradise was not\ncontemporaneous with the motion of the plants in our gardens. We must,\ntherefore, hold that it would have been impossible for another world\nto exist before the present world; and that though God might create as\nmany beings as he pleased, yet, so long as they do not exclude each\nother, they must be contemporaneous.\n\n52. This difficulty is not easy to solve, unless we have perfectly\nunderstood the meaning of the word exclusion. By exclusion is meant,\nnot only the intrinsical repugnance of one being to another, but that,\nfor one reason or another, whether intrinsical or extrinsical, the\nexistence of one implies the negation of the existence of the other.\nThis explanation solves the difficulty.\n\n53. Two worlds, entirely independent of one another, could have been\nsubjected to this exclusion by the will of God. God can create one\nwithout creating the other; in this case, we find the existence of the\nfirst and the negation of the existence of the other. God can cease to\npreserve the first, and create the second; we then find the existence\nof the second and the negation of the first. In both these cases,\nthere is _before_ and _after_, a succession in existence. God can\ncreate both; we can conceive the existence of both without the negation\nof the existence of either; this is co-existence.\n\n54. We shall understand the whole question much better, if we examine\nfor a moment the meaning of co-existence. Two beings co-exist, or exist\nat the same time, when there is no succession of one to the other, when\nboth exist, when there is not the existence of one and the negation of\nthe other. In order to conceive co-existence, we need only conceive the\nexistence of two beings: we form the idea of succession, by combining\nwith the idea of the existence of one the idea of the negation of\nthe other. The co-existence of two beings is their existence; their\nsuccession is the being of one, and the not-being of the other. Being\nrefers only to the present; the past and the future are not being. That\nonly is which is, not that which was, or which will be. There is a\nprofound truth, a sound philosophy, and an admirable ontology in those\nwords of the sacred text: \"I AM WHO AM. He who is, hath sent\nme to you.\"\n\n55. Without being and not-being, there is no succession, there is\nno time, there is only the present, there is eternity. To a being\nimmutable in itself, and in all its acts, one in its intelligence, one\nin its will, always its own object, unchangeable, in the plenitude\nof its being, without any kind of negation,--to such a being there\nis neither _before_ nor _after_; there is only _now_. If you give to\nit the succession of instants, you apply to it, without any ground,\nthe work of your imagination. Reflect well on the meaning of _before_\nand _after_, in that which can change in nothing, by nothing, and\nfor nothing, and you will see that succession is in this case a word\nwithout any meaning. We attribute to it succession because we judge the\nobject by our perceptions, and our perceptions are successive; they\nhave an alternative of being and not-being, even when applied to an\nimmutable object.\n\n56. Every one may experience this in his own mind. Conceive two beings\nto exist; add to this thought nothing accessory, neither the negation\nof being, nor of time, nor of any thing else,--merely conceive the\nexistence of two beings, and see if any thing is wanting to complete\nyour idea of their co-existence. If, on the contrary, you wish to\nperceive succession, or difference of instants, you must perceive the\nexistence of one, and the negation of the existence of the other.\nTherefore, the idea of co-existence is simple, and implies only the\nexistence of the beings, but the idea of succession is composed of the\ncombination of being with not-being.\n\n57. I must here call attention to the fruitfulness of the idea of\nbeing, which, combined with the idea of not-being, furnishes the idea\nof time. We have before seen, that the ideas of unity and number\nwere favored in the same manner, and we shall soon have occasion to\nobserve, how, from the ideas of being and not-being, spring others,\nwhich, although secondary in respect to these, are the most important\nof all the ideas which the human mind possesses. I call attention to\nthis, from a desire that the reader may become accustomed to refer all\nideas to a few points where they are united, not by a factitious chain\nimposed by arbitrary methods, but by the internal nature of things\nthemselves. What extension is, in relation to sensible intuitions,\nthe idea of being is, in relation to conceptions. The intuition of\nextension, and the idea of being, are the two fundamental points in\nall ideological and ontological science; they are two primitive data\npossessed by the mind, by means of which it can solve all problems,\neither in the sensible order, or in the purely intellectual. Regarded\nfrom this point of view, every thing becomes clear, and is arranged in\nthe most logical order, because it is the order of nature.\n\n58. I wish to make one observation on the method which I have followed\nin this work. I did not think it well to explain separately my opinion\nof these general connections of all ideas; for then it would have been\nnecessary to treat philosophy in a systematic order, placing at the\nbeginning what ought to be at the end, and trying to establish as a\npreliminary doctrine, what ought only to be the result of a collection\nof doctrines. To attain my object, it was necessary to go on analyzing\nin succession facts and ideas, without reference to system, without\ndoing violence to them, in order to make them conform to a system,\nbut only examining them, in order to ascertain their result. This,\nundoubtedly, is the best method. We thus obtain the knowledge of truth\nas a fruit of our labors on facts, and are not obliged to alter objects\nfor the sake of forcing them to bend to the author's opinion. After\nthe application which we have been making of the ideas of being, and\nnot-being, to one of the most abstruse points of metaphysics, it is not\nout of place to call the reader's attention to this for a moment, so\nthat he may be able to see the connection of doctrines.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX.\n\nPRESENT, PAST, AND FUTURE.\n\n\n59. After explaining the idea of co-existence, we came to the\ndefinition of the various relations which time presents. They\nare principally three: present, past, and future. All others are\ncombinations of these.\n\n60. The present is the only absolute time: by this I mean, that it\nneeds no relation, in order to be conceived. The present is conceived\nwithout relation to the past or to the future. Neither the past nor the\nfuture can be conceived without relation to the present.\n\n61. The _past_ is an essentially relative idea. When we speak of\nthe _past_, we have to take some point to which it refers, and in\nrespect to which we say it is past. This point is the present, either\nin reality, or in the ideal order; that is to say, that by the\nunderstanding, we place ourselves in that point, and make it present to\nus, and in reference to it, we speak of the past.\n\nTo prove that the idea of past is essentially relative, we may observe,\nthat by varying the points of reference, the past may cease to be\nconsidered as such, and may be presented as present or future. Speaking\nof the events of the time of Alexander, they are presented to us as\npast, because we consider them in relation to the present moment; but\nif we are speaking of the empire of Sesostris, the epoch of Alexander\nceases to be past, and is converted into future. If we were relating\nevents contemporary with the deeds of Alexander, this epoch would cease\nto be past or future, and would become present.\n\nThe past, therefore, is always in reference to a present point, taken\nin the course of time, and it is only in respect to this, that any\nthing is said to have been, to be past; without this relation, the idea\nof past is absurd, and it is impossible to conceive it.\n\n62. What is the relation of past? According to the definition which we\nhave given of time, when we perceive the being of any thing, and then\nits not-being, and the being of something else, we say the first is\npast in relation to the second.\n\n63. What would take place, then, if we should perceive the being of\nsomething, and then its not-being, without relation to any other being?\nThis hypothesis is absurd; for we must always have this other being, if\nwe perceive being and not-being.\n\nBut it may be replied that we may suppose the disappearance of\nourselves, and then the objection would be good. Even though we should\ndisappear, there would still remain intelligences capable of perceiving\nbeing and not-being. If there were no finite intelligence, there would\nstill be the infinite intelligence.\n\n64. Here arises a new difficulty; for it may be asked whether the thing\nwould be passed with relation to the infinite intelligence. If we admit\nthat it would be, we seem to introduce time with the duration of God,\nby which we destroy his eternity, which excludes all succession. If we\nsay that to the eyes of the infinite intelligence the thing would not\nbe past, then it would not be past in reality; for things are as God\nknows them. Then there would be the idea of being and of not-being, and\nstill there would not be the idea of past. This difficulty arises from\na confusion of terms.\n\nLet us suppose that God had created only one being, and this being\nhad ceased to exist; and let us see what would be the result of\nthis hypothesis. God knows the existence and the non-existence of\nthe object. This intellectual act is most simple; there can be no\nsuccession in it. There is properly no past with respect to God,\nand applied to the object this idea can only mean its non-existence\nin relation to its existence which is destroyed. When the ideas are\npresented in this light it is easy to understand that there is no past\nin God, but that there is the knowledge of past things.\n\n65. On this hypothesis, how can the time of only one creature be\nmeasured? By its changes. But if it has none? On this imaginary\nsupposition there would be no time.\n\nThis conclusion is absolutely necessary, although it may at first sight\nseem strange. We must either abandon our definition of time, or else\nadmit that there is no time where there is no change.\n\n66. Whatever conclusions we form on questions founded on imaginary\nsuppositions, this, at least, is certain--that the idea of past is\nessentially relative, and that on no supposition can we conceive the\npast, if we take from it all relation. The expression _has been_\nimplies both being and not-being,--the succession which constitutes\ntime. In this relation the order is such that not-being is perceived\nafter being, and this is why it is called past.\n\n67. The idea of the future is also relative to the present. The future\nis inconceivable without this relation. The future is that which is\nto come,--that which is to be with respect to a real or hypothetical\n_now_; for we may apply to the future what we said of the past, that it\nis changed by changing the point of its reference. The future for us\nwill be past to those who come after us; that which was future to those\npast, is present or past to us.\n\nThe point of reference of the future is always a present moment; it\ncannot be referred to the past as its ultimate term; for it is in\nitself referred equally to the present.\n\n68. Therefore all that we find in the idea of time that is absolute is\nthe present. The present needs no relation. It not only needs none, but\nit admits none. We can neither refer it to the past nor to the future,\nbecause these two times both presuppose the idea of the present,\nwithout which they cannot even be conceived.\n\n69. Time is a chain whose links are infinitely divisible. There is no\ntime which we cannot divide into other times. The indivisible instant\nrepresents something analogous to the indivisible point; a limit which\nwe approach without ever reaching, an unextended element producing\nextension. A geometrical point must be moved in order to generate a\nline; but no motion is conceived as possible unless we presuppose\nspace in which the point moves; or in other words, when we treat of\nthe generation of extension, we commence by presupposing it. A similar\nthing happens in relation to time. We imagine an indivisible instant,\nfrom the fluxion of which results the continuity of duration which we\ncall time. But this fluxion is impossible, unless we suppose a time\nin which it flows. We wish to examine the generation of time, and we\nsuppose it already existing, prolonged infinitely, as an immense line\non which the fluxion of the instant takes place. What are we to infer\nfrom these apparent contradictions? Nothing but a strong confirmation\nof the doctrine which we have established.\n\nTime distinguished from things is nothing. Duration in the abstract,\ndistinguished from that which endures, is a being of reason,--a work\nwhich our understanding produces from the materials furnished by\nreality. All being is present. That which is not present is not-being.\nThe present instant, the _now_, is the reality of the thing; it is not\nsufficient to constitute time, but it is necessary to time. There can\nbe present without either past or future; but there can be neither past\nnor future without the present. When besides being there is not-being,\nand this relation is perceived, time begins. To conceive past and\nfuture without the alternation of being and not-being, as a sort of\nline infinitely produced in two opposite directions, is to take an\nempty play of the phantasy for a philosophical idea, and to apply to\ntime the illusion of imaginary space.\n\n70. Therefore, if there is only being, there is only absolute, present\nduration; therefore no past nor future, and, consequently, no time.\nTime is in its essence a successive, _flowing_ quantity; it cannot be\nseized in its actuality; for it is always divisible, and every division\nin time constitutes past and future. This is a demonstration that time\nis a mere relation, and in so far as it is in things, it only expresses\nbeing and not-being.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X.\n\nAPPLICATION OF THE PRECEDING DOCTRINE TO SEVERAL IMPORTANT QUESTIONS.\n\n\n71. This theory will be much better understood by its application to\nthe solution of several questions.\n\nI. How long a time had passed before the creation? None. As there was\nno succession, there was only the present, the eternity of God. All\nelse that we imagine is a mere illusion, contrary to sound philosophy.\n\nII. Was it possible for another world to have existed when this world's\nexistence began? Undoubtedly it was; this would only require that God\nhad created it, without creating this world; it would only require\nthe being of the one and the not-being of the other. And as there was\nnot-being because there was no creation, it follows that if God had\ncreated the one without creating the other, and had ceased to preserve\nthe first when he created the second, there would have been succession\nand priority of time.\n\nIII. Here is another question which is somewhat strange, and at\nfirst seems very difficult. Was the existence of a world _prior_\nto this possible _in any time_? or, in other words, could another\nworld have _ceased_ to exist _some time before_ the beginning of the\nexistence of this world? This question implies a contradiction. It\nsupposes an interval of time, that is, of succession, without any\nthing to succeed. If a world had ceased to exist, and no new world\nshould exist, there would be nothing but God; there would then be no\nsuccession, there would be only eternity. To ask, therefore, how long a\ntime they were apart, is to suppose that there is time, where there is\nnone. The proper answer is, that the question is absurd.\n\nBut we shall be asked, were they distant, or were they not? There\nis no distance of time where there is no time; this distance is a\nmere illusion, by which we imagine time, while, by the state of the\nquestion, we suppose that there is no time.\n\nThen it may be objected, that the two successive worlds must be\nnecessarily immediate, that is to say, that the first instant of one\nmust be immediately connected with the last instant of the other.\nI deny it. For immediateness of instants supposes the succession\nof beings mutually connected in a certain order; the two worlds in\nquestion would have no mutual relation; consequently, there would be\nneither distance nor immediateness between them.\n\nBut, it may be replied, there is no medium between being and not-being,\nand distance being the negation of immediateness, and immediateness the\nnegation of distance, by denying one, we affirm the other; they must,\ntherefore, either be distant or immediate. This reply also supposes\nsomething which we deny. It speaks of distance and immediateness,\nthat is, of time, as though it were something positive, distinct from\nthe beings themselves. The principle, that every thing is, or is\nnot, _quodlibet est vel non est_, is applicable only when there is\nsomething; but when there is nothing, there is no disjunctive. The time\nof the two worlds is nothing, as distinguished from them; it is the\nsuccession of their respective phenomena; the succession of the two\nworlds, the one to the other, is nothing distinguished from them; it is\nthe being of the one, and the negation of the other, and the being of\nthe second and the negation of the first. God sees this; an intelligent\ncreature would also see it, if he could survive the annihilation of\nthe first world. To the eyes of God, who sees the reality, succession\nwould be simply the respective existence and non-existence of the two\nobjects. The intelligent creature would say, that the two worlds are\nimmediate, if to the perception of the last instant of the annihilated\nworld, the perception of a new existing world had followed without\nanother intermediate perception; and he would say, that there is\ndistance, if he had experienced various perceptions between the\nannihilation of the old and the perception of the new creation. The\nmeasure of this time would be taken from the changes of perceptions of\nthis creature, and would be longer or shorter, according to the number\nof these perceptions.\n\n72. The idea of time is essentially relative, as it is the ordered\nperception of being and not-being. The mere perception of one of the\ntwo extremes, would not be sufficient to produce the idea of time in\nour mind; for this idea necessarily implies comparison. The same is\ntrue of the idea of space, which has always a great resemblance to\ntime. We cannot conceive space, or extension of any kind, without\njuxtaposition; that is to say, without relations of various objects.\nMultiplicity necessarily enters into the ideas of both space and time.\nHence, we may say, that if we conceive a being, absolutely simple,\nwith no multiplicity, either in its essence, or in its acts, but in\nwhich all is identified with its essence, there is no room for the\nideas of space and time; and, consequently, they are mere fictions of\nthe imagination, when we attribute to them any thing real, beyond the\ncorporeal world, and before the existence of the created.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI.\n\nTHE ANALYSIS OF THE IDEA OF TIME CONFIRMS ITS RESEMBLANCE TO THE IDEA\nOF SPACE.\n\n\n73. Having explained the idea of time, and applied it to the most\ndifficult questions, we may explain this doctrine still farther, by\nexamining what we have already intimated concerning the resemblance\nbetween time and space.[29] There is analogy in the difficulties;\nanalogy in the definitions of both ideas; analogy in the illusions\nwhich hinder the knowledge of the truth. What we announced before with\nrespect to these two ideas, considering the idea of time as only what\nit appeared at first sight, we may now assert as the secure result\nof analytical investigations. I call attention in particular to the\nfollowing parallel, because it greatly explains the ideas of both.\n\n[29] See Ch. III.\n\n74. Space is nothing in itself, distinguished from bodies; it is only\nthe extension of bodies: time is nothing in itself, distinguished from\nthings. It is only the succession of things.\n\n75. The idea of space is the idea of extension in general; the idea of\ntime is the idea of succession in general.\n\n76. Where there are no bodies, there is no space: where there are no\nthings which succeed each other, there is no time.\n\n77. An infinite space, before the existence of bodies, or outside of\nbodies, is an illusion of the imagination: an infinite time before the\nexistence of things, or outside of them, is also an illusion.\n\n78. Space is continuous: so is time.\n\n79. One part of space excludes all others; one part of time also\nexcludes all others.\n\n80. A pure space, in which bodies are situated, is imaginary: a\nsuccession, a time, in which things succeed, is also imaginary.\n\n81. That which is entirely simple has no need of space, and can exist\nwithout it: that which is immutable has no need of time, and can exist\nwithout it.\n\n82. The simple and infinite is present to all points of space, without\nlosing its infinity: the immutable and infinite is present to all\ninstants of time, without altering its eternity.\n\n83. Two things are distant in space, because there are bodies placed\nbetween them; this distance is only the extension of the bodies\nthemselves: two beings are distant in time, because there are other\nbeings placed between them; this distance is the existence of the\nbeings which are placed between.\n\n84. Extension needs no other extension, in which to be placed,\notherwise we should have a _processus in infinitum_: the succession\nof things, for the same reason, needs no other succession in which to\nsucceed.\n\n85. Just as we form the idea of continued succession in space by\ndistinguishing different parts of extension, and perceiving that one\nexcludes the others, so we also form the idea of continued succession\nof time by distinguishing different facts and perceiving that one\nexcludes the others.\n\n86. In order to form determinate ideas of the parts of space, we must\ntake a measure and refer to it: to form an idea of the parts of time we\nalso need a measure. The measure of space is the extension of some body\nwhich we know: the measure of time is some series of changes which we\nknow. To measure space we seek for fixed things, as far as possible;\nfor the want of something better, men have recourse to the parts of\nthe body, the hand, the foot, the yard, and the pace, which give an\napproximate, if not an exact measure. The exact sciences having\nadvanced, they have taken for their measure the forty-millionth part\nof the meridian of the earth: time is measured by the motion of the\ncelestial bodies, by the diurnal motion, the lunar, solar, and sidereal\nyear.\n\n87. The idea of number is necessary in order to determine space and\ncompare its different parts: the same idea is necessary in the same\nmanner to time. The discrete quantity explains the continuous.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XII.\n\nRELATIONS OF THE IDEA OF TIME TO EXPERIENCE.\n\n\n88. If time is nothing distinct from things, how does it happen that\nwe conceive it in the abstract, independently of things themselves?\nHow does it happen that it presents itself to us as an absolute being,\nsubject to no transformation or motion, while within it every thing\nis moved and transformed? If it is a subjective fact, why do we apply\nit to things? If it is objective, why is it mingled with all our\nperceptions? Because it contains a necessity sufficient to be the\nobject of science.\n\nThe idea of time, whatever it may be, seems prior to all perception of\ntransformation, the consciousness of all internal acts included. It is\nimpossible for us to know any of these things, unless time serves as a\nreceptacle in which we may place our own changes and those of others.\n\n89. The idea of time is not the result of observation; for in that case\nit would be the expression of a contingent fact, and could not be the\nprinciple of science. We measure time with the same exactness as we\ndo space, and it is one of the most fundamental ideas of the exact\nsciences, in so far as they have any application to the objects of\nnature.\n\n90. It might seem to follow from this that the idea of time is innate\nin our mind; and that it is prior to all ideas, and even sensations;\nfor both are necessarily involved in successive duration.\n\n91. The necessity of the idea of time seems to prove that time is\nindependent of transitory things; in this case we are obliged to\nconvert it into a purely subjective fact, or else to grant it an\nobjective reality, independent of that which is changeable. By the\nformer we destroy it; by the latter we make it an attribute of the\ndivinity. To deny time is to deny the light of the sun; to raise it to\nthe rank of an attribute of divinity is to admit change in an immutable\nbeing. If we make it purely subjective, we deny it; if objective, we\nmake it divine: is there no middle way?\n\n92. I agree that the idea of time is not derived from mere experience;\nfor experience could not furnish an element so solid and so fixed,\non which we may with perfect security rest all the observations of\nscience. Still less can it be maintained, that the idea of time is\nderived from purely sensible experience, or that it is in itself a\nsensation.\n\n93. The idea of time is not a sensation; for it is relative, and\nsensation is an affection of our being, without any reference to or\ncomparison with any thing. When we experience sensations, if we had\nonly the sensitive faculty, we should be limited to pure sensation,\nwithout any consideration of before or after, or any relation of any\nkind. Sensation, being limited to certain objects, cannot, like the\nidea of time, extend to all objects. By time, we measure not only the\nexternal world, but also the internal; not only the affections of the\nbody, but also the most concealed and abstract actions of our mind.\nTime is, in itself, succession, and, in our mind, it is the perception\nof this succession; it cannot, therefore, present any object to the\nmind; even when time refers to objects, and is, as it were, the link\nbetween them, it is not itself either these objects themselves, nor the\nintuition of them. The idea of the time which measures the succession\nof a sound or of a sight, clearly is not either the sound or the sight,\nbut the perception of their succession, of their connection. If it were\nthe sight alone, or the sound alone, either the sight or the sound\nwould alone be sufficient in order to perceive time, which is absurd;\nfor there is no time without succession, and consequently there can\nbe no time which measures two sensations without these sensations.\nThe idea of time is independent of either of the two; it is superior\nto them; it is a sort of universal form, independent of this or that\nmatter; so that, if after the sound, instead of the sight, another\nsound should be perceived by us, the measure of the succession would\nbe the same, and this measure is nothing more than the idea of time.\nSensations being mere contingent facts, cannot be the foundation of\nnecessary and universal truths, they cannot serve as the basis of a\nscience. But the idea of time is one of the principal ideas in all the\nphysical sciences, and, like extension, is subjected to a very rigorous\ncalculation; therefore, it is not a sensation, and it is not derived\nfrom sensation.\n\n94. Purely experimental cognitions are confined to the sphere of\nexperience; the idea of time extends to the whole real and possible\norder, it teaches us not only what _is_, but what _may_, and what\n_must_ be; its relations are of absolute necessity, and may be\nsubjected to the strictest calculation; therefore it contains something\nmore than the elements furnished by sensible or insensible experience.\nIt is not otherwise possible to explain the necessity which it\ninvolves, or to pass beyond a collection of contingent facts to arrive\nat the possession of an element of science.\n\n95. Let us observe, as we pass, that here is found another proof that\nthe system of Condillac is neither true nor subsistent. His system\nhas been found insufficient to explain any fundamental idea, and it\ndoes not explain the idea of time, any more than the rest, although it\nseems as though this idea must have the most intimate relations to the\nsensible order.\n\n96. If the idea of time is not merely experimental, how explain the\npriority and necessity of time?\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIII.\n\nKANT'S OPINION.\n\n\n97. Kant uses the same theory to explain time that he used to explain\nspace. Time, according to him, is nothing in itself, neither is it any\nthing in things; it is a subjective condition of intuition, a form of\nthe internal sense, by means of which phenomena are presented to us\nas successive, just as space was the form by which they are presented\nas continuous. To speak frankly, it seems to me that this is saying\nnothing; it affirms a well-known fact, but does not explain it. Who\ndoes not know that what we perceive we perceive in succession--that\nwe perceive even our own perceptions in succession? But what is\nsuccession? This is what he ought to have explained.\n\n98. Kant says that time is only in us; but I should like to ask him,\nif succession is only in us. He pretends that we know nothing of the\nexternal world, but that we perceive certain appearances, or phenomena;\nbut he does not deny that beyond the appearance there may be a reality.\nIf this reality is possible, changes are possible in it; and change\ncannot be conceived without succession, nor succession without time.\n\n99. According to Kant, the ideas of space and time are _\u00e0 priori_, they\ncannot be empirical, or experimental; for in that case they could not\nbe the basis of science; we could only affirm what we had experienced,\nand this only with respect to the cases in which we have experienced\nit. This is true, and I have demonstrated it in the last chapter; but,\nconceding this priority, it proves nothing in favor of Kant's system.\nThe ideas of space and time, although _\u00e0 priori_, may nevertheless\ncorrespond to something in reality, as follows from the theory by which\nI have explained them.\n\n100. Time is not any thing which subsists by itself, but it is not\nequally certain that it does not belong, as an objective determination,\nto things, and that nothing remains of it, if we abstract it from all\nthe subjective impressions of intuition. I have demonstrated that time\ndoes not subsist by itself, and that a duration without any thing\nwhich endures, is an absurdity; but it does not follow from this that\nthe order represented by the idea of time is not something real in\nthe objects. Abstracting it from our intuition, there still remains\nsomething which verifies the propositions by which we express the\nproperties of time.\n\n101. The German philosopher makes time purely subjective, and relies\non the following argument: \"If time were a condition belonging to the\nthings themselves, or an order, it could not precede the objects as a\ncondition of them, and be known and perceived _\u00e0 priori_ by synthetical\njudgments. This last is easily explained if time is nothing but the\nsubjective condition under which all intuitions are possible in us. For\nthen this form of the internal intuition can be represented before the\nobjects, and consequently _\u00e0 priori_....\n\n\"If we abstract our manner of perceiving ourselves internally, and of\nembracing, by means of this intuition, all external intuitions in the\nfaculty of representation, and consequently take objects just as they\nmay be in themselves, time is nothing....\n\n\"I can say that my representations are successive, but this only means\nthat we are conscious of them in a succession,--that is, in a form of\nthe internal sense. Time would not therefore be any thing in itself,\nnor a determination inherent in things.\"[30]\n\n[30] Trans. \u00c6sth. II., A. \u00a7 6. w. f.\n\n102. It is easy to see that the philosopher is struggling between two\ndifficulties. The first is, how to explain the necessity involved in\nthe idea of time, if he makes it proceed from experience. The second\nis, how, if it is not derived from experience, it can be found really\nin things, or, at least, how we can know that it is found in them.\n\nHence, he concludes, that it is not possible to save the necessity\ninvolved in the idea of time, unless by making it a purely subjective\nfact, a form of an intuition, entirely independent of the reality of\nthings.\n\nIt seems to me, that by attending to the principles established above,\nwe can give an objective value to time, independently of our intuition,\nand explain its relations to experience, without destroying the\nnecessity contained in its idea.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIV.\n\nFUNDAMENTAL EXPLANATION OF THE OBJECTIVE POSSIBILITY AND OF THE\nNECESSITY OF THE IDEA OF TIME.\n\n\n103. Things in themselves, abstracted from our intuition, are\nsusceptible of change. Where there is change, there is succession, and\nwhere there is succession, there is a certain order in the things which\nsucceed,--an order which is really in the things themselves, although\nit does not subsist by itself, separated from them.\n\nKant might object to this, that perhaps the changes are not in things,\nbut in the phenomena, or the manner in which they are presented to our\nintuition. But he cannot deny, that whether these changes are in the\nreality, or not, they are, at least, possible, independently of the\nphenomena. Therefore, he asserts, without reason, that time in the\nthings is nothing, and that it is only the form of our internal sense.\nIf he admits the possibility of real changes, he must also admit the\npossibility of a real time; if he denies that it is possible for the\nthings in themselves to be really changed, we would ask him how he came\nto know this impossibility,--he, who limits all our knowledge to the\npurely phenomenal order. We cannot know that a thing is impossible in\nan order, if we know nothing of this order; if Kant maintains that we\nknow nothing of things in themselves, he cannot prove that we know the\nimpossibility of their really changing.\n\n104. It is then demonstrated that time, or a real order in things, is,\nat least, possible. Therefore, we cannot say that time is a purely\nsubjective condition, to which nothing can correspond in the reality.\n\n105. Admitting the possibility of an objective value of the idea of\ntime, not only in reference to the purely phenomenal order, but also to\nthe transcendental, or rather to things considered in themselves, and\nabstracted from our intuition; we shall see how the objectiveness of\nthe idea of time and its relations to experience can be shown, without\ndestroying the intrinsic necessity which makes it one of the principal\nelements of the exact sciences.\n\n106. Time, considered in things, is the order of their being, and their\nnot-being. The idea of time is the perception of this order in its\ngreatest generality and abstracted from the objects which are contained\nin it. As our understanding evidently can consider a purely possible\norder of things, the idea of time extends to the possibility as well as\nthe reality. This is why we conceive time before and after the present\nworld, similar to the space which we imagine beyond the limits of the\nuniverse. The idea of being, elevated to a purely possible region, in\nwhich it is abstracted from all individual phenomena, is freed from the\ninstability to which the objects of our experience are subject: it can\nthen be an absolutely necessary element of science; for it expresses\na relation which is not affected by any thing contingent. These\nobservations are a solution of all difficulties.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XV.\n\nIMPORTANT COROLLARIES.\n\n\n107. Is the idea of time derived from experience? This question is\nanswered by what we said of the idea of being. It is not a type\nexisting previous to all sensation and to all intellectual act; it is\na perception of being and not-being which accompanies all our acts,\nbut is not presented to us separately until reflection eliminates from\nit all that does not belong to it. This perception is the exercise of\nan innate activity, which is subjected to the conditions of experience\nin all that concerns the beginning and the continuation of its acts,\nbut not with respect to its laws which are characteristic of it, and\ncorrespond to the pure intellectual order. This activity is unfolded in\nthe presence of causes or occasions which excite it, and its exercise\nceases when these conditions are wanting; but while the activity acts,\nit exercises its functions in accordance with fixed laws which are\nindependent of the objects exciting it.\n\n108. It is therefore clear that the idea of time is not strictly\nderived from experience, except inasmuch as the mind is excited to\ndevelop its activity by experience. Neither is it entirely independent\nof experience; for without experience we should have no knowledge of\nchange, and consequently the intellect would not perceive the order of\nbeing and not-being, in which the essence of time consists.\n\n109. Hence the idea of time is not a form of the sensibility, but of\nthe pure intellectual order; and although it descends to the field\nof sensible experience, it does so after the manner of other general\nconceptions.\n\n110. The idea of time is one of the most universal and indeterminate\nideas which our mind possesses; for it is the combination of the two\nmost general and most indeterminate ideas, being and not-being. Here is\nthe reason why the idea of time is common to all men, and is presented\nto us as a form of all our conceptions and of all the objects known.\n\nThe ideas of being and not-being, entering as primitive elements into\nall our perceptions, generate the idea of time. We therefore find this\nidea in the inmost recesses of our soul as a condition from which we\ncannot withdraw ourselves, and from which we exempt the Infinite Being\nhimself only by an effort of reflection.\n\n111. The transition from the purely intellectual order to the field\nof experience takes place in the idea of time, in the same manner as\nin the other intellectual conceptions. I have, therefore, nothing\nto add to what I have already said on this point when explaining it\nelsewhere.[31]\n\n[31] See Bk. IV., Chapters XIV. and XV.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVI.\n\nPURE IDEAL TIME AND EMPYRICAL TIME.\n\n\n112. Time is not only conceived as a general order of change, or\nas a relation of being and not-being; but also as something fixed,\nwhich can be measured with exactness. Thus, before the creation of\nthe world, we conceive not only an abstract order, or time, but a\ntime composed of years, of centuries, or some other terms. But this,\nif we closely examine it, is only an idea in which we conceive the\nphenomena of experience under a general view, taking them out of\nactuality and contemplating them in the sphere of possibility. Neither\nthe years nor the centuries existed when there was nothing by which\nthey could be measured. If we imagine a sort of vague line of duration\nprolonged to infinity, abstracting it from the measure and the object\nmeasured, we become the sport of our imagination, and are entangled in\ncontradictions from which it is difficult to extricate ourselves.\n\n113. The pure and abstract idea of time admits no measure; it is a mere\nrelation of being and not-being. The measure is possible only when the\nidea of time is combined with the phenomena of experience.\n\nSubject as we are to change, and situated amid beings as changeable\nas ourselves, we should certainly fall into the greatest confusion of\nour ideas, if in this ebb and flow of external as well as internal\nexistences which appear to us, we had not the greatest facility in\nreferring them to fixed measures, which are the thread that guides us\nin this labyrinth of continual variations.\n\n114. Two things are required for this measure: first, a suitable\nphenomenon, and secondly, the idea of number. The common idea of time\nwhich serves for the ordinary purposes of life of these three elements:\nthe pure idea of time, or the relation of being and not-being;\nsecondly, a suitable phenomenon to which we apply this pure idea; and\nthirdly, the numeration of the changes of this phenomenon. Apply this\nobservation to all the measures of time, and you will find these three\nelements always sufficient, but always indispensable also.\n\n115. From this we deduce the necessity of time, even considered\nempirically; for it involves two ideas, the one metaphysical, and the\nother mathematical, applied to a fact. The metaphysical idea is the\nrelation of being and not-being; the mathematical idea is number; and\nthe fact is the sensible phenomenon, as, for example, the solar, or\nhuman motion. Metaphysics and arithmetic take charge of the absolute\ncertainty; the fact observed answers for the experimental certainty;\nand as, on the other hand, this phenomenon is supposed to be certain,\nbecause, in case it were necessary we could abstract it from the\nreality, and attend only to the possibility; it follows that time, even\nconsidered empirically, may become the object of the exact sciences.\n\n116. This theory does not make time a purely subjective condition,\nnor grant it a nature independent of things; it reconciles the pure\nintellectual order with the order of experience; and places man in\ncommunication with the real world, without creating a contradiction in\nhis ideas.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVII.\n\nRELATIONS OF THE IDEA OF TIME AND THE PRINCIPLE OF CONTRADICTION.\n\n\n117. Let us explain the true meaning of the principle of contradiction.\n\"It is impossible for any thing to be and not be at the same time.\"\nThe connection of the ideas contained in this principle seems at\nfirst sight to be explained without any difficulty; so that, to raise\nquestions as to its true sense is to place ourselves in contradiction\nwith one of the fundamental truths on which rests the edifice of our\nknowledge. For, if there be any doubt as to the true meaning of the\nprinciple, it may be understood in several ways, and then there will be\nanother doubt as to whether the generality of men understand it as they\nought to, and whether, consequently, it is for them a solid foundation\nof knowledge.\n\nThis difficulty ceases to be one when we reflect that the most\nevident axioms may be considered in two manners: empirically,\nor scientifically; or in other words, inasmuch as they are the\napplication, or the object of analytical examination. In the first\nmanner, they are equally certain and equally clear to all men; in\nthe second, they are subject to difficulties. The principle,--things\nequal to a third are equal to each other,--considered empirically, is\nabsolutely certain and evident to all men: all men, from the wisest\nto the most ignorant, compare things with a third, when they wish to\nascertain their equality or inequality; this is only an application of\nthe principle. If you ask them the reason of this proceeding, although\nthey may not enunciate the axiom in its precise terms, they refer to it\nin different ways: \"These two tables are equal, because I have measured\nthem, and they are each four feet square.\" Probably the generality of\nmen, not accustomed to reflect on their knowledge, would not express\nthe principle in universal and precise terms; as, \"These two tables\nare equal, because they have a common measure, and things equal to a\nthird are equal to each other.\" Yet they are just as clearly certain\nof the principle, and apply it, without any danger of error, in all\nreal and possible cases. This is what I call the empirical knowledge of\nprinciples,--a knowledge which is perfect in the direct order, and is\ndefective only in the reflex order.[32]\n\n[32] See Bk. I., Ch. III.\n\nIt is very easy to reconcile the difficulty in the analysis of the\nprinciple, with its clearness when applied to ordinary purposes, or\nto those of science. Thus, in the example given, the analysis of the\nterm _equal_ leads to the analysis of the term _quantity_: reflection\ncan discover in this difficulties which, although they do not disturb\nmankind in the possession of truth, are difficulties notwithstanding.\nGeometry is undoubtedly a science perfectly evident and certain; but\nwho can deny that the idea of extension presents serious difficulties,\nwhen examined before the tribunal of metaphysics? Universal arithmetic\nis, beyond all doubt, a science; yet the ideas of quantity and number,\nwhich are indispensable to it, give rise to the most abstruse questions\nof metaphysics and ideology. In general, it may be said that there\nis no branch of our knowledge which is exempt from difficulties,\nconsidered in its root; but these difficulties, arising from\nreflection, do not in any way lessen the certainty of direct knowledge.\n\nHence it is no objection that the analysis of the principle of\ncontradiction presents difficulties; nor are we therefore to fear for\nthe firmness of the edifice of our knowledge. It would be of no service\nto us not to attend to these difficulties, if they really existed; a\ndifficulty does not vanish because we shut our eyes so as not to see\nit. Let us not, therefore, vainly fear to examine the true sense of the\nprinciple of contradiction.\n\n118. It seems that this principle either does not exist, or has no\nmeaning, unless we presuppose the idea of time; and, on the other\nhand, we cannot conceive time, unless we presuppose the principle of\ncontradiction. Do we thus fall into a vicious circle, and this too in\nthe fundamental principle of all our knowledge? This is a difficulty\nwhich I shall first develop and present more clearly.\n\nThe principle of contradiction presupposes the idea of time,\nbecause there would be no contradiction if being and not-being were\nnot referred to the same time. This last condition is altogether\nindispensable; for, suppressing the simultaneousness, there is no\ncontradiction in a thing both being and not-being. Not only is there\nno contradiction in this, but it is a thing which we constantly meet\nwith, in every thing around us. We see being and not-being in things\nwhich pass from existence to non-existence, or from non-existence to\nexistence.\n\nAlthough the simultaneousness may not be expressed in the principle of\ncontradiction, it is always understood, so that we should gain nothing\nby adopting Kant's formula.[33] In whatever terms the principle may be\nenunciated, it is always true that the same thing cannot both be and\nnot be at the same time, but may very well be at one time and not be at\nanother time.\n\n[33] See Bk. I., Ch. XX.\n\nThe idea of time is therefore necessary in order that the contradiction\nmay follow in some cases, and disappear in others. If the time implies\nsimultaneousness, it generates the contradiction; if it implies\nsuccession, it destroys the contradiction; because being and not-being\nare impossible, unless we presuppose a successive duration, among the\ndifferent parts of which, things that would otherwise be contradictory\nare distributed.\n\n119. The idea of time also presupposes the principle of contradiction;\nfor, if time, in things, is only being and not-being, and in the\nintellect, the perception of this being and not-being; we cannot\nperceive time without having perceived being and not-being; and as\nthese ideas, without succession, involve a contradiction, we must\nperceive the principle of contradiction when we perceive time. I have\nsaid that succession implies the mutual exclusion of the things which\nsucceed; now, the first exclusion is the principle of contradiction:\nin perceiving time, we perceive succession; therefore we have already\nperceived the contradiction.\n\n120. These remarks might incline us to believe it necessary to choose\nbetween a vicious circle, which is inadmissible in the foundation of\nall our knowledge, and an explanation of time, independently of being\nand not-being. If we conceived time as existing by itself, as a sort of\nline prolonged to infinity; as a form of things, but distinct from them\nall; as a vague capacity in which successive beings might be placed,\njust as we situate co-existences in space,--then the idea of time would\nnot be explained by the principle of contradiction, and we could only\nsay that it was completed by it. \"When we say that it is impossible\nfor the same thing to be and not be at the same time, but that it is\npossible for the same thing to be and not be at different times, the\ncontradiction is affirmed or taken away, accordingly as the being and\nnot-being are referred to the same point or to different points in this\nvague extension, this infinite line, which we call successive duration,\nand in which we conceive changeable things to be distributed.\" This\nexplanation is convenient; but it has a defect, that it cannot stand a\nphilosophical examination, as we have seen in the preceding chapters.\nWe must therefore have recourse to another class of considerations.\n\n121. To solve this difficulty, it is necessary to determine precisely\nthe meaning of our ideas. The expression of _vicious circle_ is\nimproperly applied to this case. If we understand this, the whole\ndifficulty is solved at once. In explaining things, which are not\nidentical, a circle is a defect, and is called vicious; but when\ntwo things are identical at bottom, although they appear distinct,\nbecause presented under various aspects, it is impossible to explain\none without stumbling, so to speak, on the other, or to approach one\nwithout meeting the other. Because they are presented under different\naspects we are led to believe them distinct; but examining them\nanalytically, we abstract the difference of aspect, and penetrate to\nthe reality, and discover the point where they are united, or, rather,\nwhere they are absolutely identified.\n\n122. We may draw from these observations a criterion which we may\nuse in a great many cases. When, in explaining two objects, we find\nourselves led alternately from the one to the other, without any\npossibility of avoiding a circle, we may suspect that objects, which\nappear distinct, are not so in reality, and that the objects presented\nto the eyes of our understanding are not two objects, but only one\nobject perceived in different ways.\n\n123. This is true in the present instance. In explaining the principle\nof contradiction we encounter the idea of time, and in defining time\nwe encounter the principle of contradiction, or the ideas of being and\nnot-being. This is a circle, but an inevitable one; and therefore it\nceases to be vicious.\n\n124. What is the meaning of the principle of contradiction? Its true\nmeaning is, that being excludes not-being, and not-being excludes\nbeing; that the nature of these conceptions is such that the\naffirmation of one implies the negation of the other, not only in the\norder of our ideas, but in reality. Let us call A any being whatever:\nthe principle of contradiction means that A excludes not-A, and not-A\nexcludes A. If we think A, the conception of not-A disappears; and\nif we think not-A, the conception of A disappears. If we affirm A in\nreality, we deny not-A, and if we affirm not-A in reality, we deny\nA. This is the true meaning of the principle of contradiction. If we\nreflect, we shall find that, as far as possible, we have abstracted the\nidea of time; for we have only considered the mutual exclusion of A and\nnot-A, in reference to a _simul_, an indivisible point of duration,\nwhich, involving no succession, does not give us the idea of time. I\nsaid, _as far as possible_; because as soon as we think A and not-A,\nthe idea of succession, and consequently of time, arises in our mind.\n\n125. A and not-A imply contradiction; but not so that they absolutely\ncannot be realized. The exclusion is conditional; that is, it exists as\nlong as the contradictory extremes are simultaneous, or referred to an\nindivisible _now_; but we discover no intrinsic necessity of existence\nin the idea of A: consequently, although we know that while A is,\nnot-A cannot be, we can very well conceive that A may cease to be, and\nnot-A may begin to be. There is, in, that case, no contradiction, and\nwe can easily reconcile in our mind the two ideas of A and not-A, by\nreferring them to different instants.\n\n126. Hence the perception of time implies the perception of beings that\nare not necessary,--of beings which, when they exist, may cease to\nexist, and when they do not exist, may begin to exist. The difference\nbetween necessary and contingent being is, that the existence of the\nformer absolutely excludes its non-existence, while the existence of\nthe latter excludes its non-existence only conditionally, or on the\nsupposition of simultaneousness.\n\n127. This is why the principle of contradiction requires the condition\nof time. The objects which we perceive are changeable; there is nothing\neither in their nature or in their modifications which involves\nexistence. If they are, they may cease to be; and if this change does\nnot constantly occur in their substance, it does in their accidents.\nTherefore we cannot affirm the absolute, but only the conditional\ncontradiction of their being and not-being; it exists only on the\nsupposition of simultaneousness.\n\n128. If we conceived only necessary being, we could have no idea\nof time: its existence absolutely excludes its non-existence, and\ntherefore the contradiction would be always absolute, never conditional.\n\n129. A most important consequence results from this analysis. The\nperception of time with us implies the perception of the non-necessity\nof things. When we perceive a being which is not necessary, we perceive\na being which may cease to be, in which case we have the idea of\nsuccession, of real or possible time. Here another reflection arises\nwhich is also important: the idea of time is the idea of contingency:\nthe consciousness of time is the consciousness of our weakness.\n\n130. The idea of time is so deep in our mind, that without it we could\nnot form the idea of the _me_. The consciousness of the identity of\nthe _me_ supposes a link[34] which it is impossible to find without\nmemory. Memory necessarily involves the relation of _past_, and,\nconsequently, the idea of time.\n\n[34] See Bk. I., Ch. XXV.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVIII.\n\nSUMMING UP.\n\n\nLet us collect together the doctrines of the preceding chapters.\n\n131. Time is a question difficult to explain. Whoever denies this\ndifficulty shows that he has meditated but superficially on the matter.\n\n132. Motion is measured by time; but it is not a sufficient definition\nof time to call it the measure of motion.\n\n133. It is impossible to find a primitive measure of motion; we must,\nat last, take some measure or another, and although arbitrarily chosen,\nwe must refer motion to it. It should be the most uniform measure\npossible.\n\n134. The resemblance between the ideas of time and space creates a\nsuspicion that they ought to be explained in a similar manner.\n\n135. There is no duration without something which endures; therefore\nthere is no duration separate from things. If nothing existed, there\ncould be no duration.\n\n136. There is no succession without things which succeed: therefore\nsuccession cannot be realized as a form independent of things, although\nit may be conceived in the abstract by itself.\n\n137. Time implies _before_ and _after_, and, consequently, succession.\nIt is succession itself, because in conceiving succession, we conceive\ntime.\n\n138. Succession involves the exclusion of some things by others. This\nexclusion may either be founded on the essence of things, or be derived\nfrom an external cause.\n\n139. Time, therefore, involves exclusion: it is the general idea of the\norder of changes, or of the mutual relation of being and not-being.\n\n140. If there were no change there would be no time.\n\n141. No time had passed before the existence of the world. There was no\nother duration than eternity.\n\n142. Eternity is the existence of the infinite being, without any\nalteration either actual or possible.\n\n143. Time is not any thing absolute and independent of things, but is\nreally in them. It is the order between being and not-being.\n\n144. Co-existence is merely the existence of various beings. To\nconceive many beings without the idea of the negation of being, is to\nhave the perception of co-existence.\n\n145. Time may be considered under three aspects; the present, the past,\nand the future. All other relations of time, differently expressed in\ndifferent idioms, are only combinations of these.\n\n146. The present is the only absolute time: it is conceived without\nrelation to the past or the future; but the past and the future are not\nconceived without relation to the present.\n\n147. The idea of present accompanies the very idea of being; or rather,\nit is confounded with the idea of existence; that which has no present\nexistence is not being.\n\n148. The idea of past time is the perception of not-being, or of a\nbeing that has been destroyed, in relation to a present being: the idea\nof future time is the perception of a possible being proceeding from a\ncause already determined, and in relation to a present being.\n\n149. The idea of time is excited by experience; but it cannot be called\na fact of mere observation; for this would be opposed to its intrinsic\nnecessity, by virtue of which it is the object of the exact sciences.\n\n150. Still less can we say, that this idea is confined to the sensible\norder, since it includes every manner of change in general, whether\nsensible or supersensible.\n\n151. The idea of time being the perception of the order between being\nand not-being, this relation, considered in general, belongs to the\npure intellectual order. The transition to experience is realized in\nthe same manner as in other general and indeterminate conceptions.\n\n152. It is necessary to make a distinction between pure ideal time\nand empirical time: pure ideal time is the relation between being and\nnot-being, considered in the greatest generality and the most complete\nindeterminateness; empirical time is the same relation subjected to a\nsensible measure.\n\n153. To measure this succession, three things are necessary, and their\nunion forms the idea of empirical time. They are, first, the pure idea\nof being and not-being, or of change; secondly, the application of this\nidea to a sensible phenomenon, as, for example, the solar motion; and\nthirdly, the idea of number applied to the determining of the changes\nof this phenomenon.\n\n154. We thus conceive why empirical time implies a true necessity, and\nis the object of science. Of the three elements which compose it, the\nfirst is a metaphysical idea, the second, a mathematical idea, and the\nthird, a fact of observation, to which these ideas are applied. If this\nfact be not real, it must, at least, be possible, in order to save the\nnecessity of the calculation which is based upon it.\n\n155. There is a close relation between the idea of time and the\nprinciple of contradiction. Each is explained by the other, yet this\nis not a vicious circle. The principle of contradiction consists in\nthe mutual exclusion of being and not-being, and the idea of time is\nthe perception of the order between being and not-being. Analysis must\ntherefore lead to a part which is identical in both, to the comparison\nof the ideas of being and not-being.\n\n156. Without the idea of time, memory would be impossible; consequently\nalso, the unity of consciousness.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIX.\n\nA GLANCE AT THE IDEAS OF SPACE, NUMBER, AND TIME.\n\n\n157. We may now mark out and determine with perfect exactness the\nnecessary elements which form the object of the natural and exact\nsciences. This is not only curious, but highly important; for it\npresents under the simplest aspect, an immense field of knowledge, the\nlimits of which expand, as we advance; so that, it is impossible to\nassign a limit to progress.\n\n158. Space, number, and time, are the three elements of all the\nnatural and exact sciences. All else contained in them pertains to\nmere experience, to the order of contingent facts, which involve no\nnecessity, and cannot strictly be the objects of science.\n\n159. Universal arithmetic is founded on the idea of numbers, geometry\non that of space, and the idea of time places us in communication with\nthe sensible world, so as to determine the relations of its phenomena.\nThese phenomena are isolated contingent facts, and cannot become the\nobject of science, until subjected to the general ideas of space,\nnumber, and time.\n\n160. Hence, there are two parts in every natural science; the\ntheoretic, and the experimental. The former is founded on necessary\nideas, the latter on contingent facts; the first without the second,\nwould not come down to the real world; the second without the first,\nwould not rise to the regions of science.\n\n161. The natural sciences merit the name of science, in proportion\nto the quantity of necessary elements which they contain, and the\ncloseness of the connection by which they unite with them contingent\nfacts. But as no natural science can be conceived, without contingent\nfacts, so there is none entirely free from the contingency which they\ncommunicate.\n\n162. These observations reveal a great simplicity in the elements of\nscience, and we may push this simplicity much farther, if we recollect\nwhat has been said when analyzing the ideas of number and time.\n\n163. The idea of number arises from the idea of being and not-being:\nthe same is also true of the idea of time; therefore, at bottom, these\nideas are but one, though presented under different aspects.\n\n164. Hence, all the natural and exact sciences may be reduced to two\nelements: the intuition of extension, and the general conception of\nbeing. Extension is the basis of all sensible intuitions: externally,\nit is a necessary condition of the relations which we conceive in the\ncorporeal world; internally, it is a perception, without which the\nsensibility could not represent external objects. The conception of\nbeing, is the basis of all conceptions; developed in different ways,\nit generates the ideas of number and time; and these, combined with\nextension, constitute the necessary part of all the natural and exact\nsciences.\n\n165. The ideas of space, number, and time are common to all men; the\nproof that they are identical to all is, that, in their application,\nall are led to the same results, and in speaking of them they all\nuse the same expressions. All men measure space, and its various\ndimensions; they all count, they all conceive time: why, then, is there\nso great difficulty in explaining these ideas? why such difference of\nopinion among philosophers? Here we have a confirmation of what we have\nsaid[35] of the strength of direct perception, and the weakness of\nreflex. When we content ourselves with the direct perception of space,\nof number, and of time, our ideas are clear, and the understanding\nfeels its strength and energy, it extends the sphere of its knowledge\nbeyond all limits, and raises the edifice of the mathematical and\nexact sciences. But as soon as it turns upon itself, and, leaving the\ndirect perception, passes to the reflex, endeavoring to perceive its\nperception, its strength fails, and it falls into a confusion which\ngives rise to interminable disputes. We scarce perceive that idea,\nwhich, a moment ago, we applied to every thing, which penetrated\nall our cognitions, and circulated, like our life, through all our\nperceptions; but in its isolation, and its purity, it continually\nescapes from us; mingled with all things, we see that it is something\ndistinct from them; we separate it from one, and it unites with\nanother; we make an effort to cut it off from all that is not itself,\nand the mind feels a kind of dizziness come over it, every thing\nvanishes from before it, and, unable to reach the reality, it is forced\nto be contented with names, which it pronounces and repeats a thousand\ntimes, turning over in them the little reality which they contain.\n\n[35] See Bk. I., Chap. III.\n\n167. One of the causes of this weakness and of the errors which are\nits ordinary consequence, is, as I have before said, our mad desire of\nrepresenting every idea as an internal form, or image, whereas we ought\nto consider that in many cases there is only a perception, a simple\nact in the lowest depth of our mind,--an act, which can be represented\nby nothing, which resembles nothing, and which cannot be explained\nin words, because it cannot be decomposed, and it is only present as\na simple fact of consciousness. But this fact of consciousness is an\nactive fact; by it we penetrate into things, and see what they have\nin common, and separate it from what is particular, establishing in\nour mind, as it were, a central, culminating point, from which we\ncontemplate the internal and the external world, and roam through the\nboundless regions of possibility.\n\n\n\n\nBOOK EIGHTH.\n\nTHE INFINITE.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I.\n\nTRANSITORY VIEW OF THE ACTUAL STATE OF PHILOSOPHY.\n\n\n1. In the works on transcendental philosophy which have been published\nof late years, we find the words infinite, absolute, indeterminate,\nunconditioned, frequently repeated, and made to play a very prominent\npart in the explanation of the most recondite secrets which can be\npresented to the consideration of man. The words finite, relative,\ndeterminate, conditional, are easily combined with these; and from this\ncombination they pretend that a ray of light will arise to dissipate\nthe darkness of philosophical questions.\n\n2. In spite of the bad use many make of such words, we must confess\nthat the fact indicated is consoling by reason of the great desire\nthere is to use them. This desire marks an effort in the human mind\nto raise itself from the mire in which the impious school of the last\ncentury has sunk it.\n\n3. What was the world in the eyes of the false philosophers who\npreceded the French revolution? A mass of matter, subject to simple\nmechanical laws of motion, the whole explanation of which was given\nin two words, blind necessity. What was the human mind? Nothing but\nmatter. What was thought? A modification of matter. In what did the\ndifference between thinking and non-thinking matter consist? In a\nlittle greater or less subtilty, in a more or less happy disposition\nof atoms. What was morality? An illusion. What were sentiments? A\nmaterial phenomenon. What was the origin of man? That of matter,--a\nphenomenon offered by a quantity of molecules, which at one moment\nhappen to be disposed one way, and a moment after in a very different\nway. If you inquired if there were a destiny beyond the grave, We argue\nthat question! they would answer with a scornful smile. Have you such\na word as religion? The scorn increased and changed into contempt. Do\nyou recognize the dignity of the human race? O, yes! we admit this\ndignity, and we are of opinion that it is of the same nature as that\nof the brutes, only it has reached a higher degree of perfection. We\ndo not deny that your form may be more noble and elegant than that of\nthe monkey, nor do we dispute the superiority of your intelligence;\nbut we would have you take good care not to make pretensions to a\nnobler origin or a loftier destiny. The course of ages may develop and\nperfect the monkey form, and render it equal with yours; it may develop\nand perfect his cerebral organs, so that from this very monkey, whose\nextravagant motions and ridiculous attitudes now amuse, men will be\nborn such as were Plato, Saint Augustine, Leibnitz, or Bossuet.\n\n4. With such a system, it was useless to deal in ideas: they retained\nonly sensations. Whatever could occupy the mind of man, whether\nthe most imbecile or endowed with the loftiest genius, was nothing\nmore than a sensation transformed. The very brutes possessed all\nthe elements of human intelligence; to think was only to feel more\nperfectly. Such was the last term of their analysis; such the result of\ntheir most accurate observation; such the solution their profoundest\nphilosophy gave to the problems of man's understanding. Plato,\nAristotle, Saint Augustine, Saint Thomas, Descartes, Malebranche and\nLeibnitz were nothing but sublime dreamers, whose genius strongly\ncontrasted with their ignorance of the true nature of things. None of\nthem knew any thing about ideology or metaphysics; these sciences were\nan unknown world until Locke and Condillac came and discovered them.\n\n5. This school, as fatal as frivolous, has involved and stifled mind in\nmatter. The butterfly could not unfold his wings of fair and various\ncolors; he was forced to lay them off and to change into a stupid\nand filthy worm, entangled in a covering as loathsome and unclean as\nitself. In this consisted progress. The limit of ideological perfection\nwas to deny ideas; that of metaphysical studies, to deny spirits; that\nof morals, to deny morality; that of society, to deny authority; that\nof politics, to establish license; that of religion, to deny God. Thus,\nhuman reason, thinking to advance, marched in a retrograde direction;\nand proposed to raise the edifice of its knowledge, when there was\nnothing left to demolish: thus they imagined to attain a scientific\nresult by denying every thing, and by finally denying themselves.\n\n6. At present, there is a reaction against so degrading a philosophy.\nWe have only to open the writings of the philosophers of this age to\nconvince ourselves of this consoling truth. We everywhere meet the word\nidea in contraposition to that of sensation; that of mind to that of\nmatter; that of activity of thought to that of bodily motion; those\nof cause, order, liberty, of free will, morality, infinity. The ideas\nwhich accompany them are sometimes inexact, sometimes extravagant; but\nat the bottom of all this we distinguish an anxious desire to rise from\nthe abyss down to which an atheistical and material philosophy had\ndragged the human mind. Some who have contributed to the reaction do\nnot admit a free and intelligent God, distinct from the universe. What\nwe have said above is therefore true, that pantheism is atheism in\ndisguise; nevertheless, the atheism of the pantheist now-a-days is an\natheism which is ashamed to confess itself such, and which sometimes,\nperhaps, deceives itself, being persuaded that it is not.\n\n7. The atheism of modern philosophers unites itself with the infinite:\nit does not reject those great ideas which as relics of a primitive\ntradition were common in the old world, and were afterwards fixed,\ncleared up and elevated by the superior teaching of Christianity. The\nphilosophy of the last century sat down in the darkness and shadow\nof death and declared itself alone in possession of light and life.\nPhilosophy now still remains in obscurity, but it is not satisfied with\nit, and gropes about in the dark, seeking some outlet to the regions\nof light. Hence those desperate efforts to resolve itself, not into\nmatter, but into the focus of intelligence, into the _me_, that is, the\nmind: hence the continual use of the words absolute, unconditional,\ninfinite, words which, notwithstanding they ordinarily lead to\nabsurdities, do yet indicate a sublime aspiration.\n\n8. These observations show that we do not confound the philosophy\nof to-day with that of the past century; that we do not regard the\npantheism of to-day as a pure materialism, and that, notwithstanding\nthe atheism of which we accuse the doctrine of certain philosophers, we\ndo not deny that they have, even in the midst of their extravagance,\npreserved a kind of horror of it, and that, lost as they are in the\nlabyrinth of their speculations, they seek the thread which shall\nconduct them to the gates of truth.\n\n9. This act of justice we willingly render to modern philosophers, but\nit will not prevent us from combating their pretension to a merit they\ndo not possess. They style themselves restorers of the spirituality of\nthe soul, and of human liberty; and when they speak of God they almost\nexact a tribute of gratitude from him for having replaced him upon\nhis throne. Before making such proud pretensions they ought to have\nconsidered that they are even yet far from the truth with respect both\nto God and to man, not only as Christianity has at all times taught it,\nbut also as the most illustrious modern philosophers have professed it.\nThey are ambitious to be called restorers, but their restoration with\nits licentious frequency is a new revolution, at times as terrible as\nthe evil it attempts to combat.\n\n10. Another consideration ought to have moderated their zeal to be\nthought inventors, which is that they have said nothing concerning God,\nthe human mind, thought, ideas, the liberty of freewill, which may not\nbe read in all the works of the philosophers who flourished before, or\neven in the beginning of, the eighteenth century. Open the text-books\nof the schools, and you will find many things which they would have us\nbelieve to be important discoveries. The great philosophers gloried in\nknowing what they had before learned when children. The philosophical\ntradition of sound ideas was not interrupted during the past century.\nIn many parts of Europe schools existed which taught them with\nscrupulous fidelity. And besides human schools, there was that of the\nGod-Man, the Church of Jesus Christ, which, among its supernatural\ndogmas, preserved even natural truths, notwithstanding the senseless\nefforts which have been made to obliterate them.\n\n11. To what, then, are the invention and restoration reduced? Invention\nthere is not, either with respect to God, to the human mind, or to\nmorality, for nothing true has been said of them which had not already\nbeen said. Restoration, properly so called, there is not; for what does\nnot perish cannot be restored. The truth exists; and has been known and\nrevered during the whole six thousand years it has refused to bow the\nknee to Baal. Let not deserters say, when they turn and come back to\nthe truth that they have restored it, but that they have recovered it;\nnot that they give, but that they receive it; not that they enlighten\nthe world, but that they are blind, and that it is the goodness of\nProvidence which opens their eyes to the light.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\nIMPORTANCE AND ANOMALY OF THE QUESTIONS ON THE IDEA OF THE INFINITE.\n\n\n12. The examination of the idea of the infinite is of the highest\nimportance, not only because we meet it in various sciences, the\nexact sciences among others, but because it is one of the principal\ncharacteristics by which we distinguish God from creatures. A finite\nGod would be no God; an infinite creature would not be a creature.\n\nIn the scale of finite beings we discover a gradation, by which\nthey are interlinked; the less perfect, as they are perfected, go\non approaching the perfect; and there are, preserving the limits of\neach one's nature, points of comparison by which we may measure their\nrespective distances. Between the finite and the infinite there is no\ncomparison; all measures are inadequate and as nothing. We pass from\nan imperceptible drop to an immense ocean; from the atom which escapes\nobservation to the abundance of matter diffused through all space;\nand much as these transitions express, they are as nothing to the\ntransition from the finite to the infinite; these oceans, compared with\nthe infinite truth, become in their turn imperceptible drops, and thus\nan interminable scale baffles the efforts of the mind in search of\nsomething to correspond to its idea. The examination of the idea of the\ninfinite ought to occupy an important place in the study of philosophy,\nalthough it served for no other purpose than the contemplation of\ninfinite greatness.\n\n13. The disputes on the idea of the infinite, not only in relation\nto its nature, but also to its existence, present a strange anomaly.\nIf it exists in our mind it ought to fill it entirely, so that it\nmust be impossible to cease to perceive it. Yet it is well known that\nphilosophers dispute even on the existence of this idea; although it is\nan infinite treasure, those who possess it doubt its reality--just as\nthe heroes in romance, when they find themselves in a castle richly and\nsplendidly adorned, imagine it the effect of enchantment.\n\n14. The mere dispute as to whether the idea of the infinite be positive\nor negative, is equivalent to the question of its existence. If it is\nnegative, it expresses an absence of being; if positive, the plenitude\nof being. What question can be more vital to an idea than the dispute\nwhether it represents the absence or the plenitude of being?\n\n15. Here again we meet the fact which we have observed in the preceding\ndiscussions. Reason, after digging at its own foundations, is\nthreatened with death under the ruins of its loftiest edifices.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\nHAVE WE THE IDEA OF THE INFINITE?\n\n\n16. If we had no idea of the infinite, the word would have no meaning\nto us, and when used it would not be understood.\n\n17. Whatever may be the nature and perfection of our idea of the\ninfinite, it is certain that it involves something fixed, and common\nto all intelligences. We apply the idea to things of very different\norders, and it is always understood in the same sense by all men. Even\nthe difficulty we find in attempting to explain it, in itself or in its\napplications, proceeds from the idea itself; it is a difficulty which\nwe all meet with, because we all conceive in the same manner what is\nunderstood by the infinite, taken in general.\n\n18. Infinite and indefinite express very different meanings. The\ninfinite implies the absence of limits; the indefinite implies that\nthese limits retire continually from us; it abstracts their existence,\nand only says that they cannot be assigned.\n\n19. Whatever exists is finite or infinite; for it either has limits or\nit has not: in the first case, it is finite; in the second, infinite:\nthere is no medium between yes and no.\n\n20. Hence, properly speaking, there is in reality nothing indefinite;\nthis word only expresses a mode of conceiving things, or rather a\nvagueness in the conception, or indecision in the judgment. When we do\nnot know the limits of any thing, and, on the other hand, do not dare\nto affirm its infinity, we call it indefinite. Thus, space is called\nindefinite by those who see no way of assigning a limit to it, and yet\nare unwilling to say that it is infinite. Even in ordinary language we\ncall a thing indefinite which has no limits assigned to it; thus, we\nsay \"a concession has been made for an indefinite time,\" although it is\nlimited to some time which has not been determined.\n\n21. The idea of the infinite does not consist in conceiving that\nanother quantity may always be added to a given quantity, or that\na perfection may be made more intense; this expresses only the\npossibility of a series of conceptions by which we endeavor to approach\nthe absolute idea of the infinite. It is easy to see that the absolute\nidea is something distinct from those conceptions, because we regard it\nas a type to which the series of connections is referred, but which it\ncan never equal, no matter how greatly prolonged.\n\n22. Let us consider the words in which we naturally express what passes\nwithin us when we think of the infinite.\n\nWhat is an infinite line? A line which has no limits. Is it a million,\nor a billion miles in length? There is no number to express its length;\nit will always be greater than the number. But do we not approach the\ninfinite in proportion as we prolong a finite line? Certainly, in so\nfar as _approaching_ means only placing quantities which are found in\nwhat we approach; but not in so far as it means that this difference\ncan be assigned. There is no comparison between the finite and the\ninfinite; and therefore it is not possible to assign the difference\nbetween them. Would an infinite line be formed by the addition of all\nfinite lines? No; for we can conceive the multiplication of each of the\nterms of the addition, and therefore an increase in the infinite, which\nwould be absurd. Would the infinity of the line consist in our not\nknowing its limits, or not thinking of them? No; but in its not having\nthem.\n\n23. Thus, we see, that the idea of the infinite, is in the reach of the\nmost common intellects, and expresses only what any person of ordinary\nunderstanding would say, even though he had never occupied himself\nwith philosophical studies; that the idea of the infinite is in our\nunderstanding, as a constant type, to which all finite representations\nare unable to arrive. We know the conditions which must be fulfilled,\nbut at the same time, we see the impossibility of fulfilling them. When\nany one tries to persuade us of the contrary, we reflect on the idea\nof the infinite, and say: \"No; it is a contradiction of infinity; it\nis not infinite, but finite.\" We distinguish perfectly well between\nthe absence of the perception of the limit and its non-existence. If\nany one tries to make us confound these two ideas, we answer, \"No;\nthey must not be confounded; there is a great difference between our\nnot perceiving an object and the non-existence of that object, and we\nare not now examining whether we conceive the limit, but whether it\nexists.\" Though the limit retire and hide itself, so to speak, from our\neyes, we are not deceived: it exists, or does not exist. If it exists,\nthe condition involved in the conception of infinity is not fulfilled,\nand the object is not infinite, but finite; if it does not exist, there\nis true infinity,--the condition is complied with.\n\n24. When the idea of the infinite is considered in general, it can\nnever be confounded with the idea of the finite. There is a line which\ndivides them, and which prevents all error; for it is the principle of\ncontradiction itself; it is the distinction between _yes_ and _no_.\nWhen we say _finite_, we affirm the limit; when we say _infinite_, we\ndeny it. No ideas can be clearer or more exact.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\nTHE LIMIT.\n\n\n25. The word _infinite_ is equivalent to _not finite_, and seems to\nexpress a negation. But negations are not always truly such, although\nthe terms imply it; for if that which is denied, be a negation, the\ndenial of it is an affirmation. This is the reason why two negatives\nare said to be equivalent to an affirmative. If I say, it has not\nvaried, and you deny it, you deny my negation; for it is the same thing\nto deny that it has not varied, as to affirm that it has varied. In\norder, therefore, to determine whether the word _infinite_ expresses a\ntrue negative, we must know what is meant by the word _finite_.\n\n26. The finite is that which has a limit. A limit is the term beyond\nwhich there is nothing of the object limited. The limits of a line,\nare the points beyond which the line does not extend; the limit of\na number, is the extreme where the number stops; the limit of human\nknowledge, is the point to which we may arrive, but which we cannot\ngo beyond. A limit being a negation, to deny a limit, is to deny a\nnegation, and is consequently an affirmation.\n\n27. It is easy to see from these examples, that a limit in the ordinary\nsense, expresses an idea distinct from what mathematicians define\nit. They call a limit every expression, whether finite, infinite,\nor a nullity, which a quantity may continually approach without\never reaching. Thus, the value 0/a is the limit of the decrement of\na fraction, the numerator of which is variable x/a; because, if we\nsuppose X to be constantly diminishing, the fraction will approach\nthe expression 0/a, without ever being confounded with it, so long as\nX does not entirely disappear. If we suppose (b + x)/a an expression\nin which X is decreasing, the expression will continually approach (b\n+ 0)/a = b/a, which will be the limit of the fraction. If we suppose\nthe expression a/x, in which X is decreasing, we shall continually\napproach the expression a/0 = \u221e, an infinite value which\nthe fraction can never attain, until X becomes 0, which cannot happen,\nbecause X is a true quantity. These examples show that mathematicians\nadmit limits which are finite, infinite, or a nullity, and prove that\nmathematicians employ the word limit in a different sense from its\nordinary as well as philosophical meaning.\n\n28. A limit, therefore, expresses a true negation, and the word\nfinite, or limited, necessarily involves a negative idea. That which is\nnot, is not limited; therefore the finite is not an absolute negation.\nAn absolute negation is nothing, and we do not call the finite nothing.\nTherefore, in the idea of finite are contained being, and a negation\nof another being. A line one foot in length, involves the positive\nvalue of one foot, and the negation of all value of more than a foot.\nTherefore, the finite, in so far as finite, involves a negation\nrelatively to a being. If we could express this idea in the abstract,\nusing the word finity, as we have the word infinity, we should say that\nfinity in itself expresses only the negation of being relatively to a\nbeing.\n\n29. Hence, the word infinite is not negative; for it is the negation\nof a negation. The infinite is the not-finite; it is that which has no\nnegation of being, consequently that which possesses all being.\n\n30. We have, therefore, an idea of the infinite, and this idea is not a\npure negation. But it must not be supposed that we have arrived at the\nlast term of the analysis of the infinite. We are still far from it,\nand it is even doubtful whether we shall obtain any satisfactory result\nafter long investigations.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V.\n\n CONSIDERATIONS ON THE APPLICATION OF THE IDEA OF THE INFINITE TO\n CONTINUOUS QUANTITIES, AND TO DISCRETE QUANTITIES, IN SO FAR AS THESE\n LAST ARE EXPRESSED IN SERIES.\n\n\n31. One of the characteristic properties of the idea of the infinite is\napplication to different orders. This gives occasion to some important\nconsiderations which greatly assist to make this idea clear in our\nmind.\n\n32. From the point where I am situated I draw a line in the direction\nof the north; it is evident that I may prolong this line infinitely.\nThis line is greater than any finite line can be; for the finite line\nmust have a determinate value, and therefore, if placed on the infinite\nline, will reach only to a certain point. This line, therefore, seems\nto be strictly infinite in all the force of the word, because there is\nno medium between the finite and the infinite, and we have shown that\nit is not finite, since it is greater than any finite line; therefore\nit must be infinite.\n\nThis demonstration seems to leave nothing to be desired; yet there is\na conclusive argument against the infinity of this line. The infinite\nhas no limits, and this line has a limit, because, starting from the\npoint from which it is drawn in the direction of the north, it does not\nextend in the direction of the south.\n\n33. This line is greater than any finite line; but we may find another\nline greater still. If we suppose it produced in the direction of the\nsouth, it will be greater by how much it is produced towards the south;\nand if it be infinitely produced in this direction, its length will be\ntwice that of the first line.\n\n34. By the infinite prolongation of a line in two opposite directions\nwe seem to obtain an absolutely infinite line; for we cannot conceive\na lineal value greater than that of a right line infinitely prolonged\nin opposite directions. But it is not so: by the side of this right\nline another may be drawn, either finite or infinite, and the sum of\nthe two will form a lineal value greater than that of the first line;\ntherefore that line is not infinite, because it is possible to find\nanother still greater. And as, on the other hand, we may draw infinite\nlines and prolong them infinitely, it follows that none of them can\nform an infinite lineal value, because it is only a part of the lineal\nsum resulting from the addition of all the lines.\n\n35. Reflecting on this apparent contradiction in our ideas, we discover\nthat the idea of the infinite is indeterminate, and consequently\nsusceptible of different applications. Thus, in the present instance,\nit cannot be doubted that the right line, prolonged to infinity,\nhas some infinity, since it is certain that it has no limit in its\nrespective directions.\n\n36. This example would lead us to believe that the idea of the infinite\nrepresents nothing absolute to us; because even among those objects\nwhich are presented the most clearly to our mind, such as the objects\nof sensible intuition, we find infinity under one aspect which is\ncontradicted one by another.\n\n37. What we have observed of lineal values is also true of numerical\nvalues expressed in series. Mathematics speak of infinite series, but\nthere can be no such series. Let the series be _a_, _b_, _c_, _d_,\n_e_, ....: it is called infinite if its terms continue _ad infinitum_.\nIt cannot be denied that the series is infinite under one aspect; for\nthere is no limit which puts an end to it in one sense; but it is\nevident that the number of its terms will never be infinite, because\nthere are others greater; such, for instance, is the series continued\nfrom left to right, if continued from right to left at the same time,\nin this manner:\n\n.......... _e_, _d_, _c_, _b_, | _a_, _b_, _c_, _d_, _e_, ..........\n\nIn this case the number of terms is evidently twice as great as in the\nfirst series.\n\nTherefore the series which are called infinite are not infinite, and\ncannot be so, in the strict sense of the term.\n\n38. But what is still more strange is, that the series is not infinite,\neven though we suppose it continued in opposite directions; for by its\nside we may imagine another, and the sum of the terms of both will be\ngreater than the terms of either; therefore neither will be infinite.\nAs it is evident that whatever be the series, we can always imagine\nothers, it follows that there can be no infinite series in the sense in\nwhich mathematicians use the word series to express a continuation of\nterms, not excluding the possibility of other continuations besides the\nsupposed infinite continuation.\n\n39. The objections against lineal infinity apply equally to surfaces.\nIf we suppose an infinite plane, it is evident that we can describe an\ninfinity of planes distinct from the first plain and intersecting it in\na variety of angles; the sum of all these surfaces will be greater than\nany one of them. Therefore the infinite extension of a plain in all\ndirections does not constitute a truly infinite surface.\n\n40. A solid expanding in all directions seems to be infinite; but if\nwe consider that the mathematical idea of a solid does not involve\nimpenetrability, we shall see that inside of the first solid a second\nmay be placed, which, added to the first, will give a value double\nthat of the first alone. Let S be the empty space which we imagine\nto be infinite; and let W be a world of equal extension placed in it\nand filling it; it is evident that S + W are greater than S alone.\nTherefore, although we suppose S to be infinite, = \u221e, W also = \u221e;\ntherefore S + W = \u221e + \u221e = 2 \u221e. And as this value expresses the size,\nthe first is not infinite because it can be doubled. If we take the\nimpenetrability, the operation may proceed _ad infinitum_.\n\nTherefore the first infinite, far from being infinite, seems to be a\nquantity susceptible of infinite increase.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI.\n\nORIGIN OF THE VAGUENESS AND APPARENT CONTRADICTIONS IN THE APPLICATION\nOF THE IDEA OF THE INFINITE.\n\n\n41. The difficulties in the application of the idea of infinity,\nseem on the one hand, to prove that either this idea does not exist\nin us, or is very confused; and on the other hand, that we possess\nit, and in a very perfect degree. Why do we discover that numbers\nare not infinite, although at first they seem to be? Why do we deny\nthe infinity of certain dimensions, notwithstanding their infinite\nprolongation in one sense? Because, on examining these objects, we find\nthat they do not correspond to the type of infinity. If this type did\nnot exist in our mind, how could it be possible for us to make use of\nit? How could we compare beings with it, if we did not know it? Is it\npossible to know when any thing arrives at a turn, if we have no idea\nof that turn? It is comparing without a point of comparison; that is,\nit is exercising a contradictory act.\n\n42. Although these arguments in favor of the existence of the idea of\nthe infinite, if we examine our own mind, we cannot deny that we find\nthere a certain vagueness and confusion which inspire strong doubts as\nto the reality of this idea. What is presented to our mind, when we\nthink of the infinite? The imagination abandoned to itself, extends\nspace, expands dimensions, multiplies numbers indefinitely, but it\noffers nothing to the intellect which has the marks of infinity. If we\nleave the imagination, and regard the understanding only, it gives a\ntype by which to judge of the infinity or not-infinity of the objects\npresented to it, but if we reflect on the type itself, it loses the\nclearness it possessed before, and we even ask if the type really\nexists.\n\n43. Do we, therefore, deny the existence of this idea? are we going to\nrenounce our intention of explaining it? We do neither. I believe that\nit is necessary to admit the idea, that it is not impossible to explain\nit, and that we may even point out the reason of its obscurity.\n\n44. Before passing further, I wish to observe, that one of the causes\nof the difficulties in the explanation of the idea of the infinite,\narises from our not distinguishing the intuitive from the abstract\ncognition.[36] Many difficulties would be avoided by attending to\nthis distinction. When we say that the idea of the infinite is not\nintuitive, but abstract, we give the key to the solution of the\nprincipal objections brought against it.\n\n[36] See Book V., Ch. XI.\n\n45. We have no intuitive idea of infinity; that is to say, this idea\ndoes not present to our mind an infinite object; we can have this\nintuition only when we see the essence of God, which will happen in a\nfuture life.\n\n46. If we had now the intuition of an infinite object, we should see\nits perfections as they are, with their true marks; or rather, we\nshould see how all the perfections dispersed among limited beings, are\nunited in one infinite perfection. We could not refer the idea of the\ninfinite to determinate objects, as, for example, to extension, because\nthese objects contradict the idea. It would be impossible for us to\nmodify the idea in different ways, and apply it first in one sense,\nand then in another very different sense. The idea is one, and simple;\nit would, therefore, always relate to an object which is also one and\nsimple, not vague and indeterminate, as now, but with the determination\nof a necessary existence and an infinite perfection. We should have\nintuition of infinite being, as we have intuition of the facts of\nour consciousness: our cognition of it would be that of an object\neminently incommunicable, as predicate to any order of finite beings;\nand it would be as manifest a contradiction, to apply the idea of this\ninfinity to any number or extension, as it would be to identify an act\nof our consciousness with external objects.\n\n47. The indeterminate character in which the idea of the infinite is\npresented us, and the ease with which we modify it in various ways, and\napply it to different objects, in different senses, proves that this\nidea is not intuitive, but abstract and indeterminate, that it is one\nof those general conceptions, by the aid of which the mind obtains a\ncertain knowledge not afforded by intuition.\n\nThis will explain the origin of the vagueness of our idea of infinity.\nIndeterminate conceptions, and because they are indeterminate, relate\nto no particular object, or quality, which may be conceived by itself\nalone, as something which may be realized; they do not contain those\ndeterminations which fix our cognition in an absolute manner. The\nindeterminate manner in which they present any property of beings,\ncauses a difference in the application, accordingly as the particular\nproperties, which are combined with the general, are different. If we\ntake a right-angle triangle, in which we know the measure of all the\nsides and angles, the determinateness of the idea avoids the vagueness\nof the intellect, and prevents the application of this idea to cases\ndifferent from that which is determinate and fixed. But if we take a\nright-angle, in general, without determining the value of its sides\nand angles, its applications may be infinite. The more general and\nindeterminate the idea of a triangle becomes, the greater is the\nvariety of its applications.\n\n48. Indeterminate ideas, in order to represent any thing, must be\napplied to some property which is the condition of their actual or\npossible realization. Until this application is made, they are pure\nintellectual forms, which represent nothing determinate. I do not\nmean by this, that these ideas are empty conceptions, which cannot be\napplied outside of the sensible order, as was maintained by Kant;[37]\nbut only that granting them an universal value, I deny that they have\nby themselves alone a value representative of any thing that can be\nrealized, beyond the property which they express. The idea of a _pure_\ntriangle can not be realized, for every _real_ triangle would contain\nsomething more than is in the idea: it would be a right-angled or\noblique-angled, etc., all which, the pure idea abstracts. The object\nwill be indeterminate, in proportion to the indeterminateness of the\nproperties contained in the conception; consequently, that which\nis presented to the understanding will also be more vague, and the\napplications which may be made of the idea, will be more varied and\nnumerous, as is the case in the ideas of being, not-being, limit, and\nthe like.\n\n[37] See Book V., Chapters XIV., XV., and XVI.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII.\n\nFUNDAMENTAL EXPLANATION OF THE ABSTRACT IDEA OF THE INFINITE.\n\n\n49. Supposing that our idea of the infinite is not intuitive but\nabstract, let us see how its true nature may be explained.\n\nWe have the ideas of being and of its opposite, not-being; these ideas\nconsidered in themselves are general, indeterminate, and may be\napplied to every thing which is subjected to our experience.\n\nWe may affirm and deny something of every limited being: we may affirm\nwhat it is: we may deny what it is not: the limit is only conceived as\nsuch when something is denied of it.\n\n50. The activity of our being is unceasing, but it is limited by\nthe absence or the resistance of objects; the external world is an\nassemblage of beings presenting a great variety of limitations.\n\nTherefore both internal and external experience give us the idea of the\nfinite, that is, of a being which involves some not-being. The brute\nhas sensible perception, but no understanding: it _is_ sensitive, and\nherein it has being; it _is not_ intelligent, and herein it is limited.\nMan is sensitive and intelligent; the limit of the brute is not the\nlimit of man. Among intelligent beings some understand more than\nothers; therefore the limit of all is not the same.\n\n51. Since we find a limit in both internal and external experience, it\nis evident that we can form the general idea of limit, that is, of a\nnegation applied to an object.\n\n52. The same experience teaches that what is the limit of some\nthings is not the limit of others, and that the limit applied to one\nobject must be denied of another. When we compare different beings\ntogether, we frequently find ourselves _denying certain_ limits. As\nour understanding has the faculty of generalizing, it is evident that\nwe may conceive in general the negation of _certain_ limits, and form\nan indeterminate conception, including the two ideas of _negation_ and\n_limit_.\n\n53. I do not see what objection can be made either to the possibility\nor to the existence of this conception; but as this fact is necessary\nfor the explanation of the idea of infinity, I shall make some further\nobservations for the purpose of confirming it.\n\nWe have an idea of negation in general; this is a primitive fact of our\nmind: without it no negative judgments would be possible, nor could\nwe even know the principle of contradiction. It is impossible for any\nthing to be _and not be_ at the same time; when we say _not be_ we\nexpress a negation, we therefore have the conception of negation. This\nconception is general, because it involves no determination; we speak\nof not-being without applying it to any particular object, nor even to\nany determinate species or genus. Therefore the conception of negation\nis general and absolutely undetermined.\n\n54. We have the idea of limit; for, as we have seen, it is a negation\napplied to a being. We have also the idea of the negation of limit; for\njust as we conceive the limit as applied or applicable, we may and do\nconceive it as not applied or not applicable. At every moment we deny\ncertain limits; this idea generalized becomes the negation in general\nof limit in general.\n\n55. After these remarks we may establish what is contained in the\nidea of the infinite. This idea is a general conception involving the\nconception of being in general, and the negation of limit in general.\nThe union of these two conceptions constitutes the abstract idea of the\ninfinite.\n\n56. The general conception of the negation of limit gives us an idea\nof infinity in the abstract, but not any infinite thing. Without\nthe intuitive cognition of an infinite object, and with only a very\nimperfect idea of it, we may speak of infinity without falling into\ncontradiction, and determine the cases in which it may be applied to a\nbeing or to an order of beings, whether real or possible. Man has many\nideas of this vague kind, which nevertheless answer his necessities. We\nshall make this palpable by examples.\n\n57. Suppose we take an uneducated person and point out to him a number\nof learned men, telling him that one of them knows more than all the\nrest. The uneducated person has no idea of what the man knows who\nknows the most, nor the man who knows the least; he has no idea of the\ndegrees of science, nor of what science itself is; but he possesses the\ngeneral ideas of degree, of more and less, and also of knowledge, and\nthis enables him to speak, without contradiction or confusion, of the\ngreater science of the one and the less science of the others, and even\nto solve with certainty the questions concerning the science of those\nindividuals, in so far as these questions are contained in the general\nidea that the science of one is greater than that of all the others.\n\nA servant in an establishment where the most beautiful products of\nart are collected, may speak of them all without contradiction or\nconfusion, although he may be incapable of knowing their merit, and\nentirely ignorant of the circumstances which constitute the beauty of\nthe objects. It is sufficient for him to have the idea of perfection\nor beauty in general, and to arrange by certain arbitrary signs the\ndegrees of perfection or beauty of the objects, in order to be able\nto point them out to visitors, and talk of the greater skill of one\nartist, the poorer success of another; the greater effect and value of\nthe works of the former, and the inferiority of those of the second,\nand to make other remarks of a similar nature, which at first might\nmake us suppose him a consummate artist, or, at the least, an amateur\nof a great intellect and exquisite taste.\n\n58. It would be easy to show by other examples, how fruitful some\ngeneral ideas are, and how they may undergo innumerable combinations,\nwithout presenting any thing determinate to the intellect. This is\nprecisely what happens with the idea of the infinite: in vain we ask\nwhat there is within us which corresponds to it: the conception of\nbeing in general and of the negation of limit present nothing fixed,\nexcept certain abstract conditions to which we continually reduce the\nobjects which come under our intuition, or are presented to us with\ncertain characteristic properties which permit us to form a less vague\nidea of the negation of limit.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII.\n\nTHE DEFINITION OF INFINITY CONFIRMED BY APPLICATION TO EXTENSION.\n\n\n59. We have explained the idea of infinity in general, by the\nindeterminate conceptions of being and the negation of limit. In order\nto assure ourselves that the explanation is well grounded, and that we\nhave pointed out the essential marks of the conception, let us examine\nwhether their application to determinate objects corresponds to what we\nhave established in general.\n\nIf the idea of infinity is what we have defined it to be, we may apply\nit to all objects of sensible intuition or of the pure understanding,\nand we shall obtain the results which we ought to obtain, including the\nanomalies already referred to.[38]\n\n[38] See Chap. V.\n\n60. The anomalies, or, rather, the contradictions which we seem to find\nin the applications of the idea of the infinite, when any thing is\npresented to us as infinite which we afterwards discover not to be so,\noriginate in the application of this idea under different conditions.\nThis variety would not be possible if the idea represented any thing\ndeterminate; but as it only contains the negation of limit in general\njoined to being in general, it follows that we subject this negation to\nparticular conditions in each case, and therefore when we pass to other\nconditions, the general idea cannot give us the same result.\n\n61. A line drawn from the point where we are situated in the direction\nof the north, and produced infinitely, gives us an infinite and a\nnot-infinite. This contradiction is only apparent; there is really\nonly the difference of result caused by the condition under which the\ngeneral idea is applied.\n\nWhen we consider a line infinitely produced towards the north, we do\nnot apply the idea of the infinite to a lineal value in the abstract,\nbut to a right line starting from a point and produced only in one\ndirection. The result is what it should be. The negation of limit is\naffirmed under a condition; the infinite which results is subject to\nthat condition. It may be said that there is no medium between the\ninfinite and the not-infinite; but it is easy to solve this difficulty,\nif we observe that yes and no, to be contradictory, must be referred to\nthe same thing, which is not the case when the conditions of the object\nare changed.\n\n62. If instead of a line produced in one direction only, we had wished\nto apply the negation of limit to a right line in general, it is\nevident that we should have been obliged to produce the line in the two\nopposite directions: which would have given us another infinite under a\nnew condition.\n\nWe have before seen that not even in this case can we have a lineal\nvalue strictly infinite; because this right line only forms a part\nof the sum of lines which we can imagine. Is it then infinite, or is\nit not? It is both, if we make the proper distinction. It will be\ninfinite, or we shall have the idea of infinity or negation of limit,\napplied to a right line _alone_; but if instead of one _right line\nalone_, we take a lineal value, without any condition, the supposed\nline will not be infinite; the negation of the limit is not applied\nunder that condition; the result must therefore be different.\n\n63. We find the same anomaly, if we take two lines alone. Let us\nsuppose a right line infinitely produced in both directions, and by\nits side let us describe a curve with continual undulations extending\ninfinitely in a direction parallel to the right line. Both lines will\nbe infinite if we consider only their direction, abstracting their\nlineal value; but if we regard this value the curve is greater than\nthe straight line; for it is evident if we take a part of the curve\ncorresponding to a part of the straight line, and extend or straighten\nthis part of the curve, it will be greater than the corresponding part\nof the straight line; as this may be done throughout the whole length\nof the lines, the lineal value of the curve must be greater than that\nof the straight line in proportion to the law of its undulations.\n\n64. This may suffice to show how the idea of infinity may be applied\nunder different conditions and produce different results, without\nany contradiction. What is infinite under one aspect is not so under\nanother aspect; hence we have the _orders of infinities_ which figure\nso largely in mathematics; but I say again that these contradictions\nare not susceptible of any explanation if we attribute an absolute\nvalue to the idea of the infinite, instead of considering it as the\nabstract representation of the negation of limit.\n\n65. Is it possible to conceive in a right line or curve an absolutely\ninfinite length or lineal value, to which we may apply the negation\nof limit absolutely? I think not: for whatever be the line under\nconsideration we can always draw others, which, added to the first,\nwill give a value greater than that of the first above. This is a\ncase in which there is a contradiction between the negation of limit\nand the condition to which it is subjected. You demand a lineal value\nto which the negation of limit may be applied absolutely; and on the\nother hand you require that this lineal value should be found in a\ndeterminate line, which by the fact of its being determinate, excludes\nthe absolute negation of limit. The problem supposes contradictory\n_data_; therefore the result must be a contradiction.\n\n66. What must we suppose in order to conceive an absolutely infinite\nlineal value? We need only suppose no condition which excludes the\nabsolute negation of limit. We must here distinguish between the pure\nconception and the sensible intuition in which it is expressed. The\nconception of infinite lineal value exists from the moment that we\nunite the two general conceptions of lineal value and negation of\nlimit. But the sensible intuition, which may represent this conception,\nis not so easy to imagine, even in general. To arrive at it we must\nimagine a space without any limit; and then considering in general all\nthe lines whether right lines or curves, which may be drawn in it, in\nall directions, and under all possible conditions, we must take the\nsum of all these lineal values; and the result will be an absolutely\ninfinite lineal value; for we shall have applied the negation of limit\nwithout any restriction.\n\n67. We may obtain in the same way an infinite superficial value; for\nit is evident that we may apply to it all that we have said of lineal\nvalues.\n\n68. In all these cases we apply the negation of limit to extension\nconsidered only in some of its dimensions. If we wish to obtain\nan absolutely infinite extension, we must abstract no dimension;\nconsequently the absolutely infinite of this order, is extension in\nall its dimensions with the absolute negation of limit. But it is also\nto be observed that we must presuppose an absolutely infinite value of\nextension in order to obtain an absolutely infinite value of lines or\nsurfaces; because it is equivalent to presupposing an infinite space in\nwhich the lines and surfaces may be drawn in all directions and under\nall possible conditions.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX.\n\nCONCEPTION OF AN INFINITE NUMBER.\n\n\n69. Can we conceive an infinite number? On one side, it seems not;\nbecause we doubt its possibility, and if we possessed this idea we\nshould have no doubt of its existence. On the other side, it seems\nthat we can conceive an infinite number; for we know immediately when\na number is not infinite, and we could not know this if we had not the\nidea of infinite number.\n\nOur observations on infinite series would seem to prove that the idea\nof infinite number is an illusion; for we find those numbers which we\nbelieved infinite, not to be so.\n\nI think this question may be solved on the same principles as those\nof the last chapter. I see no difficulty in admitting the idea of an\ninfinite number, nor how any contradiction can proceed from it.\n\n70. Number is a collection of units; it is a general idea, because\nto conceive the number, we do not need to know of what class, or\nhow many the units may be. The idea of number in general abstracts\nabsolutely all such determinations. It is evident that, whatever number\nwe imagine, we can always conceive another still greater, and if we\nassign a limit to a number, we can always remove it indefinitely, so\nthat the limit of one is not the limit of the other. To the idea of\nnumber, we unite the idea of a limit and of the negation of another\nlimit. Therefore, if we unite to the idea of number in general, the\nidea of the negation of limit in general, we shall obtain the idea of\nan infinite number.\n\n71. What does this idea represent? It represents nothing determinate:\nit is an entirely abstract conception, formed of two other abstract\nconceptions, those of number and the negation of limit. No determinate\nobject corresponds to it; it is a work of our understanding referred\nto objects in general, without a determination of any sort. We may now\nsolve the difficulties previously intimated.\n\n72. Why is a series of terms presented to us as infinite, which, when\nwe examine it closely, we find wants some of the marks of infinity?\nBecause, in the first instance, we apply the negation of limit under a\ncondition which we take no notice of in the second instance.\n\nSet us the series _a_, _b_, _c_, _d_, _e_, ..........\n\nIt is evident that we may continue it infinitely, and conceive the\nnegation of all limit of this continuation: in this sense, the number\nof terms is infinite; for the idea of the negation of limit is really\napplied to the series. When we ask if the number of terms is absolutely\ninfinite, we abstract the condition under which we had united the\nnegation of limit. That, therefore, which is infinite in one instance\nis not so in another. Still there is not any contradiction because the\nyes and the no refer to different suppositions.\n\n73. Let us take a line and measure it by feet. Producing this line\nwe multiply the number of feet; and we may conceive the negation of\nall limit of this multiplication. The number of feet will then be\ninfinite. If instead of a foot we take an inch as the unit of measure,\nwe shall have a number twelve times as great. This number would also\nbe infinite, and thus we should have two infinite numbers, one of them\ngreater than the other. Is there any contradiction in this? Certainly\nnot: there is only a different combination of ideas. In the first case,\nthe idea of the negation of limit was subordinated to the condition of\nthe division of the line into feet: whereas, in the second case, we\nintroduce a different condition; the division of the line into inches.\n\n74. But, it may be said, these numbers, considered in themselves,\nabstracted from their relation to feet or inches, are equal or they\nare not equal; consequently they are infinite or not infinite. The\nobjection vanishes as soon as we correct the error which supports it.\nWhen we abstract all relation to determinate divisions, we consider\nnumber in general; on this supposition there are not two cases, but\nonly one; there cannot then be a relation of greater or less. We have\nonly the conception of number in general combined with the idea of the\nnegation of limit in general; therefore the result must be an infinite\nnumber in the abstract.\n\nThe difficulty consists in a contradiction which escapes our sight\nat first. We abstract particular conditions in order to know if the\nnumbers are in themselves infinite or not; and at the same time we do\nnot abstract them, because it is only in reference to them that the\nobjection has any meaning, since it supposes the division into various\nkinds of units. When, therefore, we speak of particular numbers, and\nat the same time pretend to consider them in themselves, we fall into\na contradiction, because we take the numbers both with and without\nparticular conditions at the same time.\n\n75. From all that has been said, we may conclude that the conception\nof infinite number, abstracted from the nature and relations of the\nthings numbered, involves no contradiction, since it contains only the\ntwo ideas of number, as a collection of beings, and of the absolute\nnegation of limit; but we cannot affirm from this alone, that an\ninfinite number can be realized. Infinite number cannot become actual\nwithout an infinite collection of beings; and these beings, when\nrealized, cannot be abstract beings, which contain nothing else but\nbeing; they must have characteristic qualities, and must be subject to\nthe conditions imposed by these qualities. As we absolutely abstract\nthese conditions in the general conception, it is not possible to\ndiscover, from the conception alone, the contradiction which they\nmay imply. Hence, although there is no contradiction contained in\nthe conception, there may still be in the reality. In the same\nmanner, certain mechanical theories are perfectly conceivable, but\nthey cannot be reduced to practice on account of the opposition of\nthe matter to which they should be applied. Finite beings are the\nmatter on which indeterminate and metaphysical conceptions are to be\nrealized; the possibility of the conceptions does not absolutely prove\nthe possibility of the beings. The reality may draw with it certain\ndeterminations involving a contradiction which was latent in the\ngeneral conception, and is made manifest by the reality.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X.\n\nCONCEPTION OF INFINITE EXTENSION.\n\n\n76. Is infinite extension conceivable? This conception includes\ntwo ideas: the idea of extension, and the idea of the negation of\nlimit. The idea of extension is a general conception, referring to\nthe intuition which, whatever may be in itself and in its object,\nrepresents extension and the union of the three dimensions, the pure\nform of which is space. It is evident that we can unite, in one\nconception, the two ideas of extension in general and the negation of\nlimit; and if this is what is called the idea of infinite extension, it\nis clear that we have this idea. This conception of infinite extension,\nabstracts all conditions of the reality; we do not know whether there\nbe, in the nature of extended things, any thing which prevents the\nabsolute infinity of their extension; consequently, we are ignorant\nwhether there is or is not any latent contradiction, which the general\nconception does not reveal to us.\n\n77. It must be remembered that I am speaking of the idea and not of\nthe sensible representation of extension; for although I hold that it\nis possible for us to have the conception of an infinite extension, I\ndo not think the same with respect to its sensible representation. The\nlatter may be indefinitely expanded, but it cannot become infinite.\n\nReason demonstrates this impossibility which consciousness makes known\nto us. Internal sensible representations are only the repetition of\nthe external, or at least are formed from the elements which these\nlatter furnish. Sight and touch are the two senses which produced\nthe representation of extension, and they both imply a limit. Touch\nonly reaches that which is immediate to it, and sight cannot see\nwith a limit which sends the rays of light to it. Internal sensible\nrepresentations must always retain this limitation; their object may be\nexpanded, or the limit removed to a greater distance, but to destroy\nthis limit would be to destroy themselves. Therefore, the imagination\nof an infinite extension is impossible to every sensitive being.\n\n78. I have proposed above (\u00a7 40) an objection against the infinity of\nextension, in so far as we may represent it as a size without limits.\n\nThe objection was, that as the idea of impenetrability is not\ncontained in the conception of a solid, we may imagine an infinite\nseries of infinites placed one inside of another. This difficulty\nis only conclusive when speaking of the conception of a solid which\ncontains something more than the pure idea of extension. The idea of\nextension necessarily implies that some parts are _outside_ of others,\nand it is not possible to conceive extension otherwise. It is certain\nthat a body may be situated in a part of space; taking from this body\nits impenetrability, we may put another body in the same place, and so\non to infinity; but in that case we conceive something besides pure\nextension, we unite something, although in a general and indeterminate\nmanner, to the idea of things situated in space; otherwise we should\nnot distinguish the space, representing pure extension, from the solids\nplaced in it, nor should we distinguish these solids from one another,\nif we did not recognize in them some difference, although general and\nundetermined.\n\n79. It seems most probable that the pure idea of an infinite extension\nis contained in the idea of an infinite size, which is nothing more\nthan the idea of space. Whatever else is introduced into the idea is\na foreign element, adding to pure extension something which does not\nbelong to it, such is the difference between extended beings, although\nconceived in an indeterminate manner.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI.\n\nPOSSIBILITY OF INFINITE EXTENSION.\n\n\n80. What are we to think as to the possibility of the infinities which\nwe conceive? Let us examine the question.\n\nIs an infinite extension possible? There is no incompatibility between\nthe idea of extension and the negation of limit, at least, according\nto our way of conceiving them. It is more difficult for us to conceive\nextension absolutely limited, than to conceive it unlimited: beyond all\nlimit, we imagine space without end.\n\n81. Neither do we discover any impossibility in the existence of\nan unlimited extension, if we consider the question in relation to\nthe divine omnipotence. Beyond all extension God can create another\nextension; if we suppose that he has applied his creative power to all\nthe extension possible, he must have created an infinite extension.\n\n82. Here a difficulty arises. If God had created an infinite extension\nhe could not create another extension; his power would be exhausted,\nand consequently it would not be infinite.\n\nThis difficulty proceeds from understanding infinite power in a false\nsense. When we say that God can do all things, we do not mean that he\ncan do things that are contradictory: omnipotence is not an absurd\nattribute, as it would be if applied to things that are absurd. An\nabsolutely infinite extension is contradictory in relation to another\ndistinct extension; for, being absolutely infinite, it contains all\npossible extensions. If we suppose it to exist, no other is possible:\nto affirm that God could not produce another, is not to limit his\nomnipotence, but only to say that he cannot do a thing which is absurd.\n\n83. We will make this solution clearer. The intelligence of God is\ninfinite; and he cannot understand more than he now understands; all\nprogress would suppose imperfection, because it would involve a change\nfrom a less to a greater intelligence. If, then, we say that God will\nnever understand more than he does now, do we limit his intelligence?\nCertainly not. He cannot understand more, because he understands\nall that is real and all that is possible, and we cannot, without\ncontradiction, conceive that he can understand more than he now does:\nthis is not to limit his intelligence, but to affirm its infinity: it\nis not susceptible of perfection, because it is infinite. This will\nenable us to understand the expression _cannot_, as applied to God.\nWhat is denied is not a perfection, but an absurdity: wherefore St.\nThomas very opportunely observes, that we should much better say that\nthe thing cannot be done, than that God cannot do it.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XII.\n\nSOLUTION OF VARIOUS OBJECTIONS AGAINST THE POSSIBILITY OF AN INFINITE\nEXTENSION.\n\n\n84. The discussions on the possibility of an infinite extension are of\na very ancient date. How could it be otherwise? Must not the glorious\nspectacle of the universe, and the space which we imagine beyond the\nboundaries of all worlds, naturally have given rise to questions as to\nthe existence or possibility of a limit to this immensity?\n\nSome philosophers think an infinite extension impossible. Let us see on\nwhat they found their opinion.\n\n85. Extension is a property of a finite substance, and that which\nbelongs to a finite thing cannot be infinite; therefore it is\nimpossible to conceive infinity of any kind in a finite being. This\nargument is not conclusive. It is true that an extended substance is\nfinite, in the sense that it does not possess absolute infinity such\nas is conceived in the Supreme Being; but it does not follow from\nthis that it cannot be infinite under certain aspects. Neither is it\ncorrect to say that no finite substance can have an infinite property,\nbecause the properties flow from the substance, and the infinite cannot\nproceed from the finite. In order that this argument may be valid, it\nis necessary to prove that all the properties of a being emanate from\nits substance: figures are accidental properties of bodies, and yet\nmany of them have no relation to the substance, and are mere accidents\nwhich appear or disappear, not by the internal force of the substance,\nbut by the action of an external cause. We see extension in bodies; but\nas we know not the essence of corporeal substance, we cannot say how\nfar this property is connected with the substance, whether it is an\nemanation from it, or only something which has been given to it and may\nbe taken from it without any essential alteration.[39]\n\n[39] See Bk. III., Chaps. XIX., XXI., XXIV., XXV., XXVI., XXVII. and\nXXVIII.\n\nMoreover, when we say that the infinite cannot proceed from the finite,\nwe do not deny that an infinite property may proceed from a substance\nfinite in its essence.\n\nWhen we admit the infinite property, we admit at the same time all that\nis necessary in the substance in order that this property may have its\nroot in it, so long as we do not deny the character of finite which\nessentially belongs to every creature. When we deny that creatures are\nor can be infinite, we speak of essential infinity, of that infinity\nwhich implies necessity of being and absolute independence under every\naspect; but we do not deny them a relative infinity, such as that of\nextension.\n\nTo undertake to prove that infinite extension is impossible, because\nevery property of a finite substance must be finite, is equivalent\nto supposing the very thing in dispute; for the precise question is,\nwhether one of these properties, namely, extension, can be infinite. In\norder to establish the negative proposition, \"No property of a finite\nsubstance can be infinite,\" it is necessary to prove this of extension.\nHence the argument which we are imposing implies, in some manner, a\nbegging of the question, when they found it on a general proposition\nwhich can only be certain when the present question is solved.\n\n86. Infinite extension ought to be the greatest of all extensions, but\nthere is no such extension. From any given extension God can take away\na certain quantity; for example, a yard: in that case the infinite\nextension would become finite, for it would be less than the first;\nand as the difference between the two extensions is only a yard, it is\nclear that not even the first could be infinite; for it is impossible\nthat there should be only the difference of one yard between the finite\nand the infinite.\n\nThis difficulty merits a serious consideration: at first sight it\nseems so conclusive that no possibility of a satisfactory solution is\nconceivable.\n\nThe proposition that the difference between the finite and the infinite\ncannot be finite, is not wholly correct. We must first of all take\nnotice that the difference between two quantities, whether finite or\ninfinite, cannot be absolutely infinite, in the sense of diminution.\nDifference is the excess of one quantity over another, and necessity\nimplies a limit; for as the excess only is considered, the quantity\nexceeded is not contained in the difference. Calling the difference\nD, the greater quantity A, and the smaller _a_, I say that D can in\nno hypothesis be infinite. By the supposition D = A - _a_; therefore\nD + _a_ = A; in order that D may equal A it is necessary to add to it\n_a_; therefore D cannot be infinite. If we suppose A = \u221e,\nwe shall have D = A - _a_ = \u221e - _a_, or D + _a_ = \u221e.\nTherefore to make D infinite we must add to it _a_, and we\ncan never have D = \u221e unless _a_ = 0; but in that case there\nwould be no true difference, since the equation, D = A - _a_, would be\nconverted into D = A - 0 = A, and the difference would not be real but\nimaginary.\n\nIt follows from this that no difference between two positive quantities\ncan be absolutely infinite; if it is so in some sense, it is not so in\nthe sense of diminution; and the union of these two ideas of difference\nand infinity results in a contradiction.[40]\n\n[40] I am speaking of the difference between _positive_ quantities; for\nwith regard to other quantities we may express an infinite difference\nalgebraically. Let the two quantities be (\u221e - _a_) and (-_a_). The\ndifference between them will be expressed in this equation, D=(\u221e - _a_)\n- (-_a_) = \u221e - a + a = \u221e.\n\nThe difference between an infinite quantity and a given finite quantity\ncannot be another given finite quantity, but it must be infinite in\nsome sense. Let us suppose an infinite line and a given finite line,\nthe difference between them cannot be expressed by a given finite\nlineal value. For supposing the second line to be a finite and a given\nline, we may place it upon the infinite line in any of its directions,\nand from any point in it it will reach a certain point of the infinite\nline. If we suppose a second given finite line, representing the\ndifference between the other two lines, we ought to place it upon\nthe infinite line at the point where the other terminates; and it is\nevident that it will terminate at another point determined by its\nlength; therefore it will not measure the whole of the difference\nbetween the infinite and the finite lines.\n\nWe obtain the same result in algebraic expressions. If A be a given\nfinite value, the difference between A and \u221e cannot be another given\nfinite value. For, expressing the difference by D, we shall have \u221e - D\n\u00b1 A D. Therefore, D + A = \u221e; consequently, if both were given finite\nvalues, an infinite would result from two given finite values, which\nis absurd.\n\nHence, a difference may be in some sense infinite, according to the\nmeaning we attach to the term infinity. If from the point where we are\nsituated, we draw a line towards the north and produce it infinitely,\nand then produce it, also, infinitely towards the south, the difference\nbetween either of these lines and the sum of them both, will be\ninfinite only in a certain sense. This is also verified by algebraic\nexpressions. If we have the infinite value equal 2\u221e, and compare it\nwith \u221e, the result is 2\u221e - \u221e = \u221e.\n\nIn general, from any infinite value we may subtract any finite\ndifference in relation to it, so long as the subtrahend is not a given\nfinite value. Let \u221e be the infinite value,--I say that we can find\nin it any finite value; for, \u221e being an infinite value, A contains\nall finite values of the same order; therefore it contains the finite\nvalue, A; consequently we may form the equation, \u221e - A = B. Whatever be\nthe value of B, the relation of B to \u221e is A; for by only adding A to B\nwe obtain \u221e. The equation, \u221e - A = B, gives B + A = \u221e, and also \u221e - B =\nA; and as A is a given value according to the supposition, and A is the\ngiven finite difference between \u221e and B, it follows that we may find a\nfinite difference to every infinite value.\n\nWe may infer from this that the possibility of assigning a finite\ndifference to an infinite extension, does not prove any thing against\nits true infinity. The infinite, and because it is infinite, contains\nall that belongs to the order in which it is infinite. We may take any\nsure value, and considering it as a difference, and we shall obtain a\nfinite difference. But far from proving the absence of infinity, this\nconfirms its existence; for it shows that all the finite is contained\nin the infinite.\n\nIn this case, the subtrahend would be infinite under a certain aspect;\nbut not in the order of diminution, because it wants the quantity which\nis taken from it.\n\n87. There is another argument against the absolute infinity of\nextension, which seems to have more weight than any of those which\nprecede, and I cannot see why it has never occurred to those who argue\nagainst this possibility. It is this,--we suppose an infinite extension\nto exist. God can annihilate it, and then create another equally\ninfinite. The sum of both is greater than either alone; therefore\nneither of them alone is infinite. This annihilation we may suppose as\noften as we wish; hence we may have a series of infinite extensions.\nThe terms of this series cannot exist at the same time, since one\nactual infinite extension excludes all others. Therefore, as the sum\nof the extensions is greater than any number of particular extensions,\nthe absolute infinite extension must be found, not in the particular\nextensions, but in the sum, and hence an actual infinite extension is\nintrinsically impossible.\n\nTo solve this difficulty we must distinguish between extension and the\nthing extended: the whole question turns on the intrinsic possibility\nof the infinity of extension, considered in itself, abstracting\nabsolutely the subject in which it is found. The difficulty places\nbefore our sight a series of successive infinite extensions; but in\nreality this succession is in the beings which are extended, and the\nnumber of which goes on increasing; but not in the extension itself.\nThe pure idea of infinite extension in the one case, is not increased\nby the new extensions which are produced; the extension appears,\ndisappears, reappears, and again disappears, but is not increased.\nThe succession shows the intrinsic possibility of its appearance\nand its disappearance, its essential contingency, because it is not\nrepugnant for it to cease to exist when it exists, or to pass again\nfrom non-existence to existence. If we examine our ideas, we shall\nfind that we cannot increase the infinite extension which we conceive,\nby any imaginable supposition; and that whatever we may do, is reduced\nto a succession of productions and annihilations. The idea of infinite\nextension seems to be a primitive part of our mind; the infinity\nwhich we imagine in space, is only the attempt which our mind makes\nto express its idea in reality. Created with sensible intuition, we\nhave received the power of expanding this intuition on an infinite\nscale,--to do this we require the idea of an infinite extension.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIII.\n\nEXISTENCE OF INFINITE EXTENSION.\n\n\n88. The question of the possibility of an infinite extension is very\ndifferent from that of its existence. The first we answer in the\naffirmative, the second in the negative.\n\nDescartes maintained that the extension of the world is indefinite; but\nthis is a term which, although it has a very rational meaning when it\nrefers to the compass of our understanding, has no meaning when applied\nto things. There is no objection to saying that the extension of the\nworld is indefinite, if it only means that we cannot assign its limits;\nbut in the reality, the limits exist or do not exist, indifferently\nof our power of assigning them; there is no medium between yes and\nno; therefore there is no medium between the existence and the\nnon-existence of these limits. If they exist, the extension of the\nworld is finite; if they do not exist, it is infinite;--in either case,\nthe word indefinite expresses nothing.\n\nThe argument of Descartes proves nothing, or it proves the true\ninfinity of the world. For, if we must remove its limits indefinitely\nbecause we always conceive indefinitely an extension beyond every\nother extension, as, on the other hand, we know that this series of\nconceptions has no limit, we may at once transfer the unlimitedness\nto the object which corresponds to those conceptions, and affirm that\nthe extension of the world is absolutely infinite. Unfortunately,\nthe argument of Descartes is without any basis; for it consists in a\ntransition from the ideal, or, rather, imaginary order, to the real\norder, which is contrary to good logic.[41]\n\n[41] See Book III., Chapter VIII.\n\n89. Leibnitz maintained, that although God could have made the material\nuniverse finite in its extension, it is more in conformity with his\nwisdom not to have done so. \"Thus I do not say,\" he writes,[42] \"as is\nhere imputed to me, that God cannot give limits to the extension of\nmatter; but the appearance is that he does not wish it, but preferred\nto give it more.\" The opinion of Leibnitz is founded on his system of\noptimism, which is open to a multitude of objections, but it is not the\nplace here to examine them.\n\n[42] _Lettres entre Leibnitz et Clarke_, Vi\u00e8me \u00c9crit. de Leibnitz, \u00a7 73.\n\n90. To speak frankly my own opinion, I say that this is a question\nwhich cannot be solved on purely philosophic principles; for, as\nthe ideas contain no intrinsic necessity, either for or against the\nexistence of an infinite extension, we must look for its solution to\nwhat experience teaches us. All the time occupied in attempting to\nsolve this question is lost. What we can assert is, that the extension\nof the world exceeds all appreciation; and as the science of astronomy\nadvances, greater depths are discovered in the ocean of space. Where is\nthe shore? or is there any? Reason cannot answer such questions. What\ndo we, poor insects, know, whose life is but a momentary dwelling on\nthis little ball of dust, which we call the globe of the earth?\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIV.\n\nPOSSIBILITY OF AN ACTUAL INFINITE NUMBER.\n\n\n91. Is an infinite number possible? Does the union of the idea of\nnumber with the idea of the absolute negation of limit, involve any\ncontradiction which prevents the realization of the conception?\n\nWhatever number we may conceive, we can always conceive one still\ngreater: this seems to show that no existing number can be absolutely\ninfinite. If we suppose this number to be realized, an intelligence\nmay know it, and may multiply it by two, three, or any other number;\ntherefore the number may be increased, and consequently it is not\ninfinite.\n\nThis difficulty is far from being conclusive, if we examine it\ncarefully. The intellectual act of which it speaks, would be impossible\non the supposition of the existence of an infinite number. If the\nintelligence should not know the infinity of the number, it might\nmake the multiplication, but it would fall into a contradiction\nthrough its ignorance; for the number being absolutely infinite,\ncould not be increased; its multiplication would be an absurdity,\nand the intelligence making it, would combine two ideas which would\nstill be repugnant, although not known to be so by the intelligence.\nIf the absolute infinity of the existing number were known to the\nintelligence, the idea of multiplication could never be associated\nwith it; for the intelligence would know that all possible products\nalready exist.\n\n92. An absolutely infinite number cannot be expressed in the algebraic\nor geometrical values; the attempt so to express it limits it in a\ncertain sense, and therefore destroys its absolute infinity. If the\nexpression \u221e, represented an absolutely infinite number, it\nwould not be susceptible of any combination which would increase it: to\nsuppose that it may be multiplied by other numbers, finite or infinite,\nis to take its infinity in another than an absolute sense.\n\nThe fraction a/0 does not express an infinite value in all the\nstrictness of the word; for it is evident that whatever be the value of\na/0 it will always be less than 2a/0 or, in general, less than na/0 n\nrepresenting a value greater than unity.\n\n93. Neither can an infinite number be represented in geometrical values.\n\nLet us take a line one foot long. It is evident that if we produce\nthis line infinitely in opposite directions, the number of feet will\nbe in some sense infinite, since the foot is supposed to be repeated\ninfinite times: the expression of the number of the feet will be the\nexpression of an infinite value. Now, I say that this number is not\ninfinite, because there are other numbers still greater. In each foot\nthere are twelve inches; therefore, the number of inches contained\nin the line will be twelve times as great as the number of feet;\nconsequently the number of feet is not infinite. Neither is the number\nof inches infinite; for they in their turn may be divided into lines,\nthe lines into points; and it is evident that the number of the smaller\nquantities will be proportionally greater than the number of the\ngreater quantities. There will be twelve times as many inches as feet,\ntwelve times as many lines as inches, and twelve times as many points\nas lines; and this progression can never end, because the value of a\nline is infinitely divisible.\n\n94. Pushing to infinity the divisibility of an infinite line, we seem\nto have an infinite number in the elements which constitute it; but a\nslight reflection will dissipate this illusion. For it is evident that\nwe can draw other infinite lines by the side of the supposed infinite\nline; and since according to the supposition, each of them may be\ninfinitely divided, it follows that the sum of the elements of all the\nlines will give a greater number than the sum of the elements of any\none of them.\n\n95. If we wish to find an infinite number of parts in values of\nextension, we must suppose a solid infinite in all its dimensions, with\nall its parts infinitely divided. But not even then should we have an\nabsolutely infinite number, although we should have the greatest which\ncan be represented in values of extension.\n\nConceding that an infinite extension existed which is infinitely\ndivisible, the number of its parts would not be absolutely infinite;\nfor we can conceive other beings besides extended beings, and\nconsidering both under the general idea of being, we might unite them\nin a number which would be greater than that of extended beings alone.\n\n96. No imaginable species of beings infinitely multiplied, can give an\nabsolutely infinite number. The reason is the same as that given in the\nlast paragraph: the existence of beings of one species does not render\nthe existence of beings of another species impossible. Therefore,\nbesides the supposed infinity of the number of beings of a determinate\nspecies, there are other numbers which, united with this, produce a\nnumber greater than the pretended infinity.\n\n97. The existence of an absolutely infinite number requires: first, the\nexistence of infinite species of beings; and secondly, the existence of\ninfinite individuals of each species. Let us see if these conditions\ncan be realized.\n\n98. There seems to be no doubt of the intrinsic possibility of\ninfinite species. The scale of beings is between two extremes, nothing\nand infinite perfection: the space between these extremes is infinite;\nand beings may be distributed on it in an infinite gradation.\n\n99. Admitting the intrinsic possibility of an infinite gradation in\nthe scale of beings, the question occurs, whether their possibility is\nonly ideal, or also real, that is, may be realized. God is infinitely\npowerful; if the infinite gradation is intrinsically possible, God can\nproduce it; for whatever is intrinsically possible falls within the\nreach of divine omnipotence. On the other hand, supposing, as we must,\nthe liberty of God, there is no doubt but God is free to create all\nthat he can create. If then there is nothing repugnant in an infinity\nof the species of beings distributed in an infinite gradation, these\nbeings may exist if God will it. Therefore denying all limit to the\nnumber of species and of individuals of each species, it seems that\nthe infinite number would exist, since it is impossible to imagine any\nincrease or limitation in the collection of all beings.\n\nOn this supposition the most perfect created beings possible would\nexist, and no more perfect being in the sphere of creatures could be\nconceived. All that can be imagined would already exist, from nothing\nto infinite perfection.\n\n100. Still it must be observed that the collection of created beings,\nwhatever be their perfection, are necessarily subject to the condition\nof dependence on another being; a condition from which the infinite\nbeing above is essentially exempt. This condition involves limitation;\ntherefore, all created beings must be finite.\n\n101. Does the character of finite, which is met with in all created\nbeings, involve a determinate limit beyond which they cannot pass? If\nthis limit exists, is not the number of possible species also limited?\nAnd if these species are not infinite, is not an infinite number an\nillusion?\n\nAlthough the intrinsic possibility of the infinite scale of beings\nseems beyond a doubt, we must beware of solving too quickly the present\nquestion. With respect to indeterminate conceptions, we see no possible\nlimit; but would this still be so, if we had an intuitive knowledge of\nthe species? Are we sure that in the particular qualities of beings,\ncombined with limitation and dependence, which are essential to them,\nwe should not discover a term beyond which they cannot go, by reason of\nthe constitution of their nature? How impotent philosophy is to solve\nsuch questions!\n\n102. Whatever may be concluded as to this infinity of species and their\nrespective perfection, I do not believe that an actually infinite\nnumber can exist. Among these species must be counted intelligences\nwhich exercise their acts in succession. This is evidently so; for\nin this number are included human minds which think and wish in a\n_successive_ manner. The acts of these intelligences may be numbered:\nthis we know from consciousness. Therefore there would never be an\ninfinite number, because these acts, being successive, can never be all\nat the same time.\n\n103. It may be answered that in this case we might suppose that\nspirits, including our own, have only one act of intelligence and will.\nTo this I reply, that besides contradicting the nature of created\nbeings, which, because they are finite, must be subject to change, it\nis also open to another objection, inasmuch as it eliminates at once\nmany species of beings, and thus, instead of preserving the infinity,\nrenders it impossible. Who can deny the possibility of that which\nexists? If, as our experience informs us, there now exist beings of\nsuccessive activity, why would not these beings be possible on the\nsupposition that the divine omnipotence had exerted all its infinite\ncreative power?\n\n104. This difficulty, which is founded on the nature of finite\nintelligences, seems to render the existence of an infinite number\nimpossible, and it becomes still stronger if we examine the question\nunder a more general aspect.\n\nThe existence of an absolutely infinite number excludes the existence\nof any other number. That which is numbered is not substance alone,\nbut its modifications also. This has already been demonstrated with\nregard to intelligences, and is true in general of all finite beings.\nEvery finite being is changeable, and its changes may be counted. The\nmodifications produced by the changes cannot all exist at once, for\nsome of them exclude others. Therefore, an actual infinite number is\nnever possible.\n\n105. Let us apply these considerations to the sensible world. Motion\nis a modification to which bodies are subject. This modification\nis essentially successive. A motion, the parts of which co-exist,\nis absurd. The co-existence of different states, which result from\ndifferent motions, is also absurd: things that are contradictory cannot\nexist at the same time, and many of these situations are contradictory,\nbecause one of them necessarily involves the negation of others.\nIf a line falling on another line revolve around a point, it will\nsuccessively describe different angles. When it forms an angle of 45\ndegrees, it will not form an angle of 30 degrees, nor of 40, nor 70,\nnor 80; these angles mutually exclude one another. A portion of matter\nwill form different figures, according to the arrangement which is\ngiven to the parts of which it is composed. When these parts form a\nglobe, they will not form a cube; these two solids cannot exist at the\nsame time, formed of the same portion of matter.\n\n106. This variety of motion and form can be numbered. At every step we\nmeasure motion, applying to it the idea of number; at every instant we\ncount the forms of a portion of matter, as for example, a piece of wax,\nto which different forms have been given successively: whatever be the\nnumber of the beings which we suppose to exist, every one of them will\nbe susceptible of transformations which may be counted. Therefore, in\nthe very nature of things, there is an intrinsic impossibility of the\nexistence of an actual infinite number.\n\n107. I believe that these arguments fully demonstrate the impossibility\nof an actual infinite number; and if I do not dare to say that I am\nsure of having given a complete demonstration, it is because the\nnature of the question presents so many and so great difficulties, it\nso bewilders and confounds the weak understanding of man, that there\nis always reason to fear that even those arguments, which seem the\nclearest and most conclusive, may conceal some fault which vitiates\ntheir force, and makes an illusion appear an incontestible truth. Still\nI cannot but observe that to combat this demonstration, it seems, to me\nthat it would be necessary to deny our primary ideas, the exclusion of\nbeing and not-being, and the necessity of succession, of time, to the\nrealization of contradictory things.\n\n108. Perhaps it may be objected to me that contradictory modifications\nare not a part of the infinite number, which only relates to the\npossible: but this does not destroy my demonstration; it rather\nconfirms it. For as the absolute infinite number implies the absolute\nnegation of all limit, when, in treating of the realization of this\nconception, I meet with things that are contradictory, I say that the\nrealization of the conception is contradictory, because the general and\nindeterminate conception is more extended than all possible number.\n\n109. The origin of their greater conception is, that the indeterminate\nconception abstracts all conditions, that of time included; but the\nreality does not and cannot abstract these conditions. Hence arises the\nconflict between the conception and its realization, and this explains\nwhy the conception is not contradictory, although its realization is\nimpossible.\n\nLet us suppose a number realized containing all the species and\nindividuals possible, we may reflect on the conception of the infinite\nnumber, and say that the true infinity of the number requires the\nabsolute negation of all limit; but thinking of the collection of\nthings which exists, we can find it a limit, for concerning this\ncollection of units in general, we may add to it another number\nexpressing the new modifications which may be produced. At the instant\nA, the number of units may be expressed by M. At the instant B, there\nwill be a new collection of units which may be expressed by N. The sum\nof M + N will be greater than either M or N alone. Therefore, neither\nM nor N will be absolutely infinite. The indeterminate conception\nabstracts instants and relates to the sum above; hence it includes\nthings which cannot co-exist.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XV.\n\nIDEA OF ABSOLUTELY INFINITE BEING.\n\n\n110. We are entering on a difficult question. Serious difficulties are\nfound in the idea of the infinite in general; the idea of absolutely\ninfinite being is not less difficult. We have seen that there are\ndifferent orders of infinities, each one of which is a conception\nformed by the association of the two ideas of a particular being\nand the negation of limit. But it is easy to see that none of the\ninfinities hitherto examined can be called infinite in the strict\nsense of the term: they are all limited under many aspects,--none of\nthem is an infinitely perfect being. The idea of this being is not\nfully possessed by us while in this life; still it may be analyzed and\nexplained with more clearness than it is by most authors. The great\ndifficulties, which we meet with in this attempt, show the necessity of\ndeep meditation, and the transcendency of the errors which originate in\na wrong understanding of the word infinite when applied to God.\n\n111. What is an absolutely infinite being? It might seem that we had\nsaid all that is necessary in defining the absolutely infinite being\nto be that which has no negation of being: but this is a common notion\nwhich leaves much to be desired. It is an indisputable truth that the\ninfinite being has no negation of being; but it is a truth so far\nbeyond our reach that it presents to our weak understanding only a\ngloomy confusion, as soon as we attempt to determine exactly its true\nsense.\n\n112. If the absolutely infinite being has no negation of being, it\nseems that nothing can be denied, but that everything may be affirmed\nof it, for it must be all; in this case pantheism results from the\nidea of infinity. If a true negative proposition can be established in\nrelation to the infinite being, there is in it a negation of being, or\nof the predicate which is denied in the proposition.\n\nIt cannot be said that when negative propositions are applied to God,\nonly a negation is denied, for in reality positive things are denied of\nGod. When I say that God is not extended, I deny of him a reality which\nis extension. When I say God is not the universe, I deny of him the\nreality of the universe. Therefore negative propositions, as applied to\nGod, deny not only negations, but also realities.\n\nIt does not seem to solve the difficulty to say that the realities\ndenied involve imperfection, and are, consequently, repugnant to God.\nThis is very true, but we are treating at present of the explanation\nof the idea of the absolutely infinite, and the difficulty militates\nagainst the supposition that the idea of the absolutely infinite is to\nbe explained by the absolute absence of negation of being. If these\nrealities are any thing, when denied of God some being is denied;\nand since the proposition cannot be true if there is not in God the\nnegation of the being denied, it follows that it is incorrect to say\nthat the absolutely infinite being is that which has no negation of\nbeing.\n\n113. It also seems that a being of this nature could have no\nproperties; for some positive properties exclude others: thus,\nintelligence and extension, freedom of will and necessity with respect\nto the same thing are positive properties which mutually exclude one\nanother. Therefore the infinite being cannot have all properties,\nunless we make it a collection of absurdities, after the fashion of\npantheists.\n\n114. The infinite being must have all being which involves no\nimperfection. This is very true, but there still remain serious\ndifficulties to be solved. What is perfection? What is imperfection?\nThese are questions which it is not easy to answer, and yet we cannot\nadvance a step until we have determined their meaning.\n\n115. The idea of perfection implies being: nothing cannot be perfect, a\nperfect not-being is a manifest contradiction.\n\n116. Not all being is absolute perfection; for there are modes of\nbeing which involve imperfection: what is perfection for one being is\nimperfection for another.\n\n117. In finite beings perfection is relative; a very perfect barn would\nbe a very imperfect church; a painting may be an ornament in a gallery\nwhich would be a profanation if placed in the sanctuary. Perfection\nseems to consist in a property being conducive to its end. This idea is\nnot applicable to the infinite being which can have no other end than\nitself. Therefore, perfection in the absolutely infinite being cannot\nbe relative, but must be absolute.\n\n118. If perfection is being, it seems that the perfection of the\ninfinite being must consist in certain properties which are found\nformally in it, and therefore exclude all imperfection. An absolutely\nindeterminate being, that is, a being without any property, is\nimpossible. What conception can we form of _a thing_ without\nintelligence, without will, and without liberty? The propositions in\nwhich these properties are affirmed of God, are true; therefore these\nproperties really exist in the subject of which they are affirmed.\n\n119. An infinitely perfect being must have all perfection; but in\nwhat sense are we to understand _all_? Does it mean all possible\nperfections? But what perfections are possible? Those which are not\nrepugnant. To what is the repugnance to be referred? It must be either\na mutual repugnance, or a repugnance to a third: if the first, it is\nnecessary to presuppose one of the two extremes, in order that the\nother may be repugnant to it; in that case, which is to be preferred?\nIf the second, what is the third to which they are repugnant? On what\nis it founded?\n\nIf by all perfection is meant all that we can conceive, the same\ndifficulty remains. For if we speak of the conception of a finite\nbeing, the conception is not infinite; if of the conception of an\ninfinite being, it is a begging of the question, because in explaining\nthe perfections of the infinite being we appeal to its conception.\n\nThese difficulties can only be solved by determining more precisely the\nmeaning of these ideas.\n\n120. A thing may be denied of another in two manners: by referring\nthe negation to a property, or to an individual. When I say a surface\nis not a triangle, I may refer the predicate either to the species\nof triangle in general, or to an individual triangle. In the first\ninstance, I deny that the figure is triangular; in the second, I deny\nthat the figure is another given triangle. When I say God is not\nextended, I deny a property; when I say God is not the world, I deny an\nindividual.\n\nIt is evident that in order to attribute absolute infinity to any\nbeing, it is necessary that no being should be denied of it, either\nwith respect to properties or to individuals, and that the predicate\nshould be affirmed without destroying the principle of contradiction.\nThis exception is absolutely indispensable, unless we wish to make\nthe infinite being the greatest of all absurdities, a jumble of\ncontradictions.\n\nI believe that this will explain to a great extent the idea of absolute\ninfinity, not considered in the abstract, but applied to a really\nexistent being.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVI.\n\nALL THE REALITY CONTAINED IN INDETERMINATE CONCEPTIONS IS AFFIRMED OF\nGOD.\n\n\n121. We have seen that our cognitions are of two classes: some are\ngeneral and indeterminate, others intuitive. All the objects which we\nknow, whether indeterminately or intuitively, may be affirmed of God,\nprovided they involve no contradiction.\n\n122. General and indeterminate conceptions are the ideas of being and\nnot-being, substance and accidents, simple and composite, cause and\neffect. All that is real in these conceptions is affirmed of God.\n\n123. Being or that which really exists, is affirmed of God. That which\nis not has no property.\n\n124. Substance, or being subsistent in itself, is also affirmed of God.\n\nI do not enter into the discussion of the question greatly disputed in\nthe schools, whether the ideas of being and substance are applied in\nthe same sense, or, as logicians say, _univoce_, to God and creatures.\nIt is sufficient for my purpose that the idea of being is applied to\nthe infinite being, as opposed to the idea of not-being, and the idea\nof substance as opposed to accidents, or rather, as implying a thing\nwhich contains all that is necessary in order to subsist by itself\nwithout inhering in any other.\n\n125. The idea of accident cannot be applied to the infinite being;\nbut this is not to deny it any thing positive, but rather to affirm\na perfection; for we say that it has no need of being inherent in\nanother. This is a perfection; it is being: to deny the quality of\naccident is to remove a negation. To say that a being is a substance is\nto deny that it is an accident: these two ideas are contradictory and\ncannot be attributed to the same subject at the same time.\n\n126. Simplicity is affirmed of God. This attribute denies nothing; to\nbe convinced of this we need only recollect what simplicity is. The\nsimple is one; the composite is a union of beings. If the parts are\nreal, as they must be if there is a true composition, the resultant\nis a collection of beings subordinated to a certain law of unity.\nWhen, therefore, we say that God is simple, we say that God is not a\ncollection of beings, but one being. This involves no negation: but on\nthe contrary it is the affirmation of an existence not divided into\nvarious beings.\n\n127. The idea of cause, that is, of activity which produces in another\nthe transition from not-being to being, or from one mode of being to\nanother, is also affirmed of God. This involves no negation, but is an\naffirmation of being; for a cause is not only being, but a being which\nso abounds in perfection as to communicate it to others.\n\n128. The idea of effect cannot be applied to God; but this is an\naffirmation, not a negation. Every effect is a thing produced, which\nhas, consequently, passed from not-being to being: to deny the quality\nof effect is to remove the negation of being, and affirm the fulness of\nbeing.\n\n129. What has been said of the ideas of cause and effect, may be\nextended to the ideas of necessary and contingent. The negative\nproposition, God is not contingent, is an affirmation; for contingency\nis the possibility of not-being. To deny this possibility is to affirm\nthe necessity of being, which is the fulness of perfection.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVII.\n\nALL THAT IS NOT CONTRADICTORY IN INTUITIVE IDEAS IS AFFIRMED OF GOD.\n\n\n130. We have seen that all that is positive in general and\nindeterminate conceptions is affirmed of God. Let us see if the same\nis true of intuitive ideas. These ideas, in all that touches our\nunderstanding, may be reduced to these four; passive sensibility,\nactive sensibility, intelligence, and will.\n\n131. Passive sensibility, or the form under which the objects of the\nexternal world are presented to our senses, cannot be attributed to the\ninfinite being. This negative proposition, the infinite being is not\npassively sensible, is strictly true.\n\nDoes this proposition deny any thing positive of God? Let us examine it.\n\nThe form of passive sensibility is extension, which necessarily implies\nmultiplicity. The extended is necessarily a collection of parts: to\ndeny extension of God is to affirm his simplicity; to deny that he is a\ncollection of beings, and to affirm the indivisible unity of his nature.\n\n132. Besides extension, there is in the passive sensibility of objects\nonly the relation of causes which produce in us the effects called\nsensations. This causality can and must be affirmed of God: for it\nis certain that the infinite cause is capable of producing in us all\nsensations without the intervention of any medium.\n\n133. The negative proposition: the infinite being is not material,\nmeans nothing more than the other; the infinite being is not passively\nsensible. We do not know the intrinsic nature of matter: all we know\nis, that it is presented in intuition to our sensibility under the form\nof extension, as an essentially multiplex object. When we deny that God\nis material or corporeal, we deny that he is passively sensible, or\nthat he is multiple under the form of extension.\n\n134. The other properties of matter, such as mobility, impenetrability,\nand divisibility, relate to extension, or to a particular impression\ncaused on our senses. The difficulties that may be raised on these\npoints are solved by the preceding paragraphs.\n\nInertness, or indifference to rest or motion, is a purely negative\nproperty. It is the incapacity of all action, the absence of an\ninternal principle productive of change, the purely passive disposition\nto receive all that is communicated to it.\n\n135. It therefore remains demonstrated that to deny to God passive\nsensibility, or corporeal nature, is to affirm his undivided nature,\nhis productive activity, and the impossibility of his suffering any\nkind of change.\n\n136. Active sensibility, or the faculty of perceiving, presents two\ncharacteristics which must be defined. There are in sensation two\nthings: the affection caused in the sensitive being by the sensible\nobject, and the internal representation of the sensible being. The\nfirst is purely passive, and supposes the possibility of being affected\nby an object, and, consequently, of being subject to change. This\ncannot be attributed to the infinite being: to deny it is to affirm\nimmutability, or the necessity of remaining always in the same state.\nThe second is a sort of inferior order of cognition, by which the\nsensitive being perceives the sensible object. The representation\nof all objects must necessarily be found in the infinite being,\nconsequently all that is intuitively perceptive in the sensitive\nfaculty must be contained in the perception of the infinite being; that\nis to say, all that sensibility presents to us of external objects,\nall that it transfers to our intuition of external existence, must be\ncontained in the representation which the infinite intelligence has\nwithin itself. Man cannot know under what form objects are presented\nto the intuition of the infinite being; but it is certain that all the\n_truth_ contained in sensitive representation is presented to this\nintuition.\n\n137. Intelligence, or the perception of objects without the forms of\nsensibility, implies the perception of beings and of their relations,\nwhich is something positive. In us it is often accompanied by the\nnegative circumstance, of the absence of determinate objects to which\nthe general conception may be referred. The infinite being sees in a\nsingle intuition all that exists and all that can exist, and contains\nall that is positive in intelligence, without what is negative, which\nis an imperfection.\n\n138. It is evident that will must be affirmed of God; for we cannot\ndeny the infinite being that internal, spontaneous activity which is\ncalled _to will_, and the nature of which involves no imperfection.\n\n139. The will of God, although one and most simple, is distinguished\ninto free and necessary, according to the objects to which it is\nreferred. This gives rise to various negative propositions, which it is\nwell to examine.\n\nWe say: God cannot will moral evil; this proposition, apparently\nnegative, is, logically considered, affirmative. God cannot will moral\nevil, because his will is invariably fixed on good, on that sublime\ntype of all holiness which he contemplates in his infinite essence.\nThe impotence of moral evil is in God an infinite perfection of his\ninfinite holiness.\n\n140. The divine will may be referred to external objects, which, being\nfinite, can be combined in different manners, and the existence or\nnon-existence of these combinations depends on the end proposed by\nthe agent which produces or modifies them. The will of God exerted on\nthese objects is free; and to say that he has no necessity of doing\nthis or that is to deny nothing, but to affirm a perfection, namely,\nthe faculty of willing or not willing, or willing in different manners,\nobjects which, on account of their finite nature, cannot bind the\ninfinite will.\n\n141. Hence all the reality contained in general ideas, whether\nindeterminate or intuitive, that is not contradictory, is affirmed\nof the absolutely infinite being. As to individual realities, it is\nevident that those which are finite cannot be affirmed of the infinite\nbeing without contradiction. The proposition: the infinite being is\nthe corporeal universe, is equivalent to this: the infinite being is\nan essentially finite being. The same contradiction will be met with\nin every proposition where the subject is the infinite being, and the\npredicate an individual reality distinct from the infinite being.\nThis remark will suffice for the present: they will be more clearly\nunderstood when we come to treat of the multitude of substances, in\nrefuting the error of pantheists.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVIII.\n\nINTELLIGENCE AND THE ABSOLUTELY INFINITE BEING.\n\n\n142. The infinite being is not a vague object presented in the general\nidea of being, but is possessed of true properties which, without\nceasing to be real, are identified with its infinite essence. A being\nwhich is not something, of which some property cannot be affirmed, is\na dead being, which we conceive only under the general idea of thing,\nand is presented to us as something which cannot be realized. Such is\nnot the conception which mankind form of the infinite being; the idea\nof activity has always been associated with the idea of God: this is\nnot a general, but a fixed and determinate activity; internally, it is\nthe activity of intelligence; externally, the activity which produces\nbeings.\n\n143. The idea of activity in general does not exclude all imperfection:\nactivity to do evil is an imperfect activity: the activity by which\nsome sensible beings act on others, is subject to the conditions\nof motion and extension, and is, consequently, not exempt from\nimperfection. Pure, internal activity, considered in itself, involves\nno imperfection; this is intellectual activity. It is an inoffensive\nactivity, and of itself does no harm; it is an immaculate faculty, and\nof itself is never stained.\n\n144. To know good, is good; to know evil, is also good; to wish\ngood is good; to wish evil is evil; here is a difference between the\nunderstanding and the will; the will may be defiled by its object, the\nunderstanding never. The moralist considers, examines, and analyzes\nthe greatest iniquities, and studies the details of the most degrading\ncorruption; the politician knows the passions, the miseries, and\nthe crimes of society; the lawyer witnesses injustice under all its\naspects; the naturalist and the physician contemplate the most filthy\nand loathsome objects; and in all this no stain attaches to the\nintelligence. God himself knows all the evil there is or can be in\nthe physical or in the moral order, and yet his intelligence remains\nimmaculate.\n\n145. Created beings abuse liberty as such; for it is essentially a\nprinciple of action, and may be directed to evil; but the intelligence,\nas regards itself alone, cannot be abused. It is essentially an\nimmanent or intransitive act in which are represented real or possible\nobjects; the abuse does not commence until the free will combines the\nacts of the intelligence and directs them to a bad action; there is\nno evil knowledge until the act of the will is introduced into the\ncombinations of the understanding. A collection of stratagems to commit\nthe most horrible crimes, may be the innocent object of intellectual\ncontemplation.\n\n146. A wonderful thing is intelligence. With it there is relation,\norder, rule, science, art; without intelligence there is nothing.\nConceive, if you can, the world without the pre-existence of\nintelligence; all is chaos; imagine the order which now exists, destroy\nintelligence, and the universe is a beautiful picture placed before the\nextinguished sight of a corpse.\n\n147. We conceive beings as more perfect accordingly as they are higher\nin the order of intelligence. Leaving the sphere of the insensible\nand entering the order of sensitive representation, a new world\ncommences. The first degree is the animal in which sensations are\nlimited to a small number of objects, and the summit is intelligence.\nMorality flows from intelligence, or, rather, is one of its laws,\nit is the prescription of conformity to an infinitely perfect type.\nMorality is explained with intelligence; without intelligence it is an\nabsurdity. The intelligence has its laws, its duties, but they proceed\nfrom itself, as the sun enlightens itself by its own light. Liberty\nis explained with intelligence; without it, liberty is an absurdity.\nWithout intelligence causality is presented to us as a farce operating\nwithout an object or a direction, without a sufficient reason, and is\nconsequently the greatest of absurdities. When some theologians said\nthat the constitutive attribute of the essence of God is intelligence,\nthey expressed an idea which contains a wonderfully profound\nphilosophical meaning.\n\n148. By the intellectual act being does not go out of itself:\nintelligence is an immanent act which may be extended to infinity,\nand exercised with infinite intensity without the intelligent leaving\nitself. The more profound its understanding is, the more profound is\nits concentration on the abyss of its consciousness. Intelligence is\nessentially active: it is activity. See what happens in man: he thinks,\nand his will awakes and acts: he thinks, and his body moves: he thinks,\nand his strength is multiplied, all his faculties are subject to his\nthought. Let us imagine an intelligence infinite in extension and in\nintensity, an intelligence in which there is no alternation of action\nand rest, of energy and abatement, an infinite intelligence which knows\nitself infinitely, and knows infinite, real, or possible objects with\nan infinitely perfect knowledge; an intelligence, the source of all\nlight without any darkness, the origin of all truth without any mixture\nof error; we may then form some idea of the absolutely infinite being.\nBy this infinite intelligence I conceive an infinitely perfect will;\nI conceive creation, a pure act of will calling into existence, from\nnothing, the types which pre-existed in the infinite intelligence; I\nconceive infinite holiness, and all the perfections identified in that\nocean of light. Without intelligence I conceive nothing: the absolute\nbeing, which is in the origin of all things, seems the old chaos, and\nI try in vain to induce some order into it. The ideas of being, of\nsubstance, and of necessity are knocked about in the greatest confusion\nin my understanding; the infinite is not a focus of light for me, but\nan abyss of darkness: I know not whether I am immerged in an infinite\nreality, or lost in the imaginary space of a vague and empty conception.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIX.\n\nSUMMING UP.\n\n\n149. The examination of the idea of the infinite is of the greatest\nimportance, because it is inseparably united with the idea of God.\n\n150. We have the idea of the infinite; but the disputes concerning its\nnature, and even its existence, denote its obscurity.\n\n151. The finite is that which has limits.\n\n152. The infinite is not the same as the indefinite. The infinite is\nthat which has no limits--the _not-finite_; the indefinite is that to\nwhich no limits are assigned--the _not-defined_.\n\n153. The difference between the infinite and the finite is founded\non the principle of contradiction: the finite affirms limits; the\ninfinite denies them: there is no medium between yes and no.\n\n154. Limit is the negation of a being, or of something real, applied\nto a being: the limit of a line is the point which terminates it; the\nlimit of a force is the point beyond which it does not extend.\n\n155. The idea of the infinite, denying limit, denies a negation;\ntherefore it is an affirmative idea: the idea of the finite is\nnegative, because it affirms a negation.\n\n156. The idea of the infinite is applied to many orders of beings, and\npresents strange anomalies, which seem contradictions. A line produced\nto infinity in only one direction appears infinite, since it is greater\nthan all finite lines; and it is not infinite, because it has a limit\nin the point where it starts. The same thing is verified in surfaces\nand solids. To explain these anomalies we must attend to the following\nobservations.\n\n157. The idea of the infinite is not intuitive. We have no intuition of\nan object either absolutely or relatively infinite.\n\n158. The idea of the infinite is an indeterminate conception formed by\nthe union of the two indeterminate ideas of being in general, and the\nnegation of limit in general.\n\n159. The indeterminate conception of the infinite gives us no knowledge\nof any thing infinite.\n\n160. The anomalies and apparent contradictions, which we find in the\napplication of the idea of the infinite, vanish when we reflect that\nthe difference of the results depends on the different conditions\nunder which we apply the idea of the infinite. Things which would be\ninfinite under one condition cease to be so when considered under other\nconditions: the apparent contradiction is caused by one not remarking\nthe change of conditions.\n\n161. We have the conception of infinite number, for we can unite in\nour mind the two indeterminate conceptions of number and the negation\nof limit.\n\n162. We have the conception of infinite extension, for we can unite the\ntwo indeterminate ideas of extension and the negation of limit.\n\n163. The possibility or non-contradiction of conceptions in the purely\nideal order does not prove their possibility in the real order. When\nthe conceptions are realized, their reality is not in an abstract\nextension or an abstract number, but in individual extended beings,\nor individual numbers: the determinateness implied by the reality may\ninvolve contradiction to the true infinity, although it be impossible\nfor us to discover any contradiction in the indeterminate conception,\nwhich abstracts the conditions of their realization.\n\n164. Although we have the conception of infinite extension, it is\nimpossible for us to imagine it.\n\n165. No extrinsic or intrinsic repugnance can be discovered in the\nexistence of infinite extension.\n\n166. We cannot know by purely philosophical means whether the extension\nof the universe is infinite or finite.\n\n167. Although an absolutely infinite number may be indeterminately\nconceived, it is not susceptible of any arithmetical or geometrical\nexpression: no series of what mathematicians call infinite expresses an\nabsolutely infinite number.\n\n168. The intrinsic impossibility of an _actual_ infinite number may be\ndemonstrated from the intrinsic repugnance of the _co-existence_ of\ncertain things which may be _numbered_.\n\n169. The idea of the absolutely infinite real being cannot be\nindeterminate: it necessarily involves positive and formal perfections.\n\n170. All that does not imply a contradiction must be affirmed of the\ninfinite being. That which is absurd is not a perfection.\n\n171. Analyzing indeterminate and intuitive ideas, we find that all the\nreality contained in them is affirmed of God.\n\n172. The absolutely infinite being must be intelligent.\n\n173. Intelligence is a perfection which does not imply contradiction.\n\n174. Will and liberty must also be found in the absolutely infinite\nbeing.\n\n175. The indeterminate idea of the infinite is favored by the\ncombination of the ideas of being and not-being.\n\n176. The idea of an absolutely infinite being consists in the idea of a\nunion of all being that involves no contradiction.\n\n177. The indeterminate idea of a real infinite being, or of God, is\nformed from the idea of an absolutely infinite being, combined with\nthe intuitive ideas of intelligence, will, liberty, causality, and all\nothers that can be conceived without imperfection, in any infinite\ndegree.\n\n\n\n\nBOOK NINTH.\n\nON SUBSTANCE.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I.\n\nNAME AND GENERAL IDEA OF SUBSTANCE.\n\n\n1. What is substance? Have we a clear and distinct idea of it? The\ndisputes of philosophers concerning the idea of substance and the\ncontinual applications which we make of it, prove two things: first,\nthat the idea of substance exists; and secondly, that its clearness and\ndistinctness are not all that could be desired. A mere name, containing\nno idea, could not so strongly draw the attention of all philosophers,\nnor be used so generally, even in ordinary language; a clear and\ndistinct idea could not give occasion to so much dispute.\n\n2. The importance of this idea may be seen in the results to which\nphilosophers are led, according to the way in which they explain\nit. The entire system of Spinosa is founded on wrong definition of\nsubstance.\n\n3. In the present question as in many others, it does not seem to be\nthe shortest way to begin with a definition, unless the thing defined\nis only a name: to define a thing is to explain it, and we cannot\nexplain it if we are ignorant of what it is, and we are ignorant, or\nare supposed to be ignorant of this, when we enter on investigations\nin order to ascertain what it is. If philosophers, at the beginning\nof their treatises, would not say, substance is this, but only, this\nis what I understand by substance, they would escape a number of\ndifficulties.\n\n4. After defining the name of substance, and making a clear and\ndistinct idea correspond to it, it is still necessary to show how far\nthe idea represents objects really existing, or, whether it belongs to\nthe class of ideas expressing only the relation of different ideas,\nwithout our having any means of ascertaining whether this relation is\nfound in the positive world or not; that is to say, whether the idea of\nsubstance is only the work of our understanding, a mere result of the\ncombination of certain ideas, or is furnished us by experience itself.\nI shall try not to fall into any of these faults; I know not, however,\nwhether I can escape them. For this purpose, I shall first analyze the\nword, with respect to its etymological sense, and then examine the\nvarious meanings which have been given to it. The analysis of words is\nvery useful for the analysis of ideas: words often contain a great deal\nof truth, which we lose by not attending to their common meaning.\n\n5. The word substance, _substantia_, implies something which is under,\n_substat_, which is the subject on which other things are placed; just\nas its correlative, accident or modification, expresses something which\nhappens to the subject, _accidit_; something which modifies it, which\nis in it, as a mode of being, _modus_.\n\n6. By substance we seem to understand something constant in the\nmidst of variation, something which, although it is in various ways\nsuccessively, according to the variety of modifications which affect\nit, remains constant and identical under different transformations.\nWhen we say that the substance has received any new modification,\nalthough we understand by this that the substance is, in a new mode,\nwe do not mean that it is different in itself, that it has lost its\ninternal primitive being, and taken a new being; but we only consider\nthis change as external, and as leaving untouched a certain base, which\nis what we call substance.\n\nIf it were not so, if we did not conceive something constant and\nidentical under modifications, we could not distinguish substance from\nits modifications. The modification passes from not-being to being,\nand from being to not-being; now it is, and now it resigns its post\nto another and very different modification. But the substance is the\nsame under different modifications; it does not pass from not-being\nto being with the succession of its modifications. From the moment\nthat we attribute to substance the instability which belongs to its\nmodifications, it ceases to be distinguishable from them.\n\nOrdinary language confirms this truth. When there is a variation of\nmodifications we say that the substance changes, that is, we conceive\nsomething which existed before the change, and exists after it. We say\nthat a modification has entirely disappeared; we do not say this of the\nsubstance, but only that it is, or is presented to us, in a different\nmanner. We therefore conceive something which remains constant and\nidentical under different modifications: the subject in which these\nchanges occur, this something which does not disappear with the\ndisappearance of the modifications, which is not changed internally\nwith these changes, we call substance, _substantia_, _substratum_.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\nAPPLICATION OF THE IDEA OF SUBSTANCE TO CORPOREAL OBJECTS.\n\n\n7. Let us apply the ideas contained in that of substance to a corporeal\nobject: this will help explain these ideas, and perhaps suggest others.\n\nThe paper on which I am writing is susceptible of various\nmodifications: I may write on it a thousand different things, in\nvarious characters, and in different colors; I may fold it in various\nways, and give it an infinite variety of positions in relation to the\nobjects around it, and I may move it in all imaginable directions.\nUnder this infinity of changes there is something constant, something\nwhich does not change. There are many new things, but there is one\nwhich is not new, which is always the same. There is one which suffers\nthese changes, but retains something which does not change. If I make\nthe paper blue and then red, that which is now red is the same that was\nblue, and before that white, and to this which is constant all those\nchanges are referred. If a white paper is shown me, and then another\npaper that is blue, and then one that is red, it is clear that it is\nnot the same as though I gave all these transformations to the same\npaper. The impression which the color produces in me remains the same;\nin what, then, does the difference consist? The difference is, that in\nthe one case there is something permanent, which has passed through\nsuccessive changes; in the other case this _something_ is not the same,\nbut is another and different thing. In the one case there are different\nmodifications; in the other there are different substances.\n\n8. Let us go deeper into the matter. If we only received the successive\nimpressions without any means of referring them to the same object,\nto connect them in a common point, we should find no difference\nbetween the two cases of which we have been speaking. If a piece of\nwhite paper be placed before us, and, after turning our eyes aside\nfor a moment, we find a blue paper in the same place, with the same\ndimensions, and after again turning our eyes aside we find a red paper:\nit is clear that it would be impossible for us to distinguish, by the\nmere succession of the visual impressions, whether the same paper has\nbeen differently colored in succession, or different papers have been\nsubstituted for the first. But if we keep our eyes on the place where\nthe paper is, we see whether the paper is colored or changed. In the\nfirst case, the appearance of the new color will continue with the same\nsensation of the paper, unmoved, the transformation is made without our\nlosing sight of it, and the paper receives the continued succession\nof its motions and positions under the hand of the one who colors it.\nWe are then sure that the paper is the same, because there has been\na continuity of sensation, or rather a connection of the different\ncolors with a third, resulting from the situation of the paper and\nits motions, and from all that by which we know what is common to the\nfirst and the second. But if there is no new coloring of the paper, but\na substitution of a differently colored paper, we see that the first\npaper is taken away; the whole order of the sensation is interrupted,\nand new sensations are presented. These last have no connection with\nthe first; there is, consequently, for us a different _thing_.\n\n9. This shows how the idea of substance with respect to bodies is\ngenerated in us, or, to speak more properly, how we apply the idea of\nsubstance to bodies. When we discover a link which unites the different\nsensations in one point, we call that in which they are united,\nsubstance. And as we meet in nature with many of these points which are\nindependent of one another, we naturally say there are many corporeal\nsubstances.\n\n10. When we perceive an impression we never call it a substance, if\nwe refer it to an object, or consider it as objective: for the object\nis not, of itself alone, capable of connecting various sensations.\nWe receive the sensations of red, and not only ordinary people, but\neven philosophers, when not philosophizing, make the color objective,\nand consider the red, not as a simple sensation, but as an external\nquality. No one would call this quality by itself a substance; for\nit is not capable, of itself alone, of connecting other impressions\nor qualities. If there is a change of color the red disappears,\nand the new impression is connected in the order of time with the\nsensation of the red, but does not reside in it. If there is a change\nof form, although the red continues, we do not conceive this color as\nthe necessary link between the two forms, because we know that the\ncontinuance of the red is indifferent to the variety of form, which may\nbe changed with or without the continuance of this color.\n\nAs in general we have experienced that no sensation is necessarily\nconnected with another, and that among sensations connected at a common\npoint, some disappear without the rest disappearing, we infer that\nnone of them is a necessary link; and therefore, although we make them\nobjective, we do not give them the character of a substance, of any\nthing remaining identical through changes, of which it is, as it were,\nthe recipient.\n\n11. There is a property in bodies which is necessary to all sensations,\nor at least, to the two principal sensations of sight and touch. This\nproperty is extension, which, whether considered subjectively or\nobjectively, we regard as a recipient of all sensations. We neither see\nnor imagine the white or black; we neither touch nor imagine the hard\nor the soft, the warm or the cold, without the extension in which the\nwhiteness or blackness, the hardness or softness, the warmth or the\ncold reside. Thus extension might perhaps merit the honor of substance,\nif it were not subject to another condition, which deprives it of this\ntitle.\n\nAlthough when we conceive extension in general, in the abstract,\nconsidering it as a mere continuity, we absolutely abstract it from\nall form; when we have need of an applied extension as the recipient\nof sensations, it is impossible to find it without a determinate\nform and figure. We do not see a color simply, but we see it in a\ncircular, triangular, or other extension. These forms are confounded\nwith extension itself as its applications; and do not serve as a link\nfor other sensations. Sometimes, it is true, the same figure receives\ndifferent colors, different positions, different degrees of heat or\ncold, etc., but the contrary also sometimes occurs, and with the same\ncolor, and the same degree of heat or cold, with the same continuance\nof the other sensations, the object changes its form; just as a red\ncircle may become a green circle, a red object may become circular, and\nafterwards triangular. In the first case, the circular figure is the\nlink connecting the sensations of the colors; in the second, the color\nis the link connecting the figures.\n\n12. Having deprived extension of the honor of substance, as well as\nall other sensations, in so far as objective; we may observe that all\nthese variations in the objects are successive, and the sensations are\nconnected with each other. Thus the same circle may take different\ncolors; and the same color different figures; the colors may be again\nchanged, and the first reproduced, the figure remaining the same; or\nthe first figure may be reproduced, the colors remaining the same. We\nconclude that under this variety there is something constant, that\nunder this multiplicity there is something which is one; that under\nthis succession of being and not-being there is something permanent;\nand this which is constant, one, and permanent, the recipient of these\nchanges, the point outside of us which connects them, and enables us to\nconceive them connected,--this is what we call substance.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\nDEFINITION OF CORPOREAL SUBSTANCE.\n\n\n13. What is the permanent subject of transformations in the sensible\norder? Is it a pure illusion? Is it a reality? What reality can it be?\nDoes it not seem rather an abstraction? A thing which is no color,\nbut lends itself all colors; which is none of the qualities which we\nexperience, but the subject and cause of them all; which is no form,\nbut accommodates itself to all forms; which is not pure extension,\nbecause this is an abstraction, and it is something which serves as the\nground of other things; a corporeal object which, in itself, can affect\nnone of the senses; what is it? Is it what the Aristotelians call an\noccult quality, a mysterious, and fantastic being, a mere illusion? Let\nus examine it by the light of experience.\n\n14. Let us take a piece of wax and without letting it go out of\nour hands paint it different colors successively, subject it to\ndifferent degrees of temperature, softening it by warming, and then\ncooling it; let us give it different forms, of a globe, a cylinder, a\nparallelopipedon, a table, a vase, or a statue; do all these changes\ntake place in the same thing? Yes. Is this thing not a color, or a\nfigure, or a degree of temperature? No; because all these qualities\nwere and ceased to be whilst the thing remained the same. How do I\nknow that the thing remained the same? Because there was a continuity\nof sensation in the eye fixed upon the object; in the touch which,\nalthough it felt the modifications of warm and cold, hard and\nsoft, experienced also an uninterrupted sensation of an object,\nwhich remained constantly in the hand, and the weight of which was\ncontinuously felt. Therefore there is something there which is not the\nmodifications, but is that which is modified, something common to them\nall, which receives and connects them, outside of me and within me.\n\n15. Examining one conception of this permanent something, we find that,\nafter abstracting its qualities, we have:\n\nI. The idea of being. We say the thing, the something, the subject,\netc., we therefore speak of a being, of a quality. Without the reality\nthere is nothing; and nothing cannot be the subject of modifications,\nor the link connecting impressions.\n\nII. The idea of being, which we here find, is not pure, it is not being\nalone. The qualities exist, are beings, and still we do not confound\nthem with the subject.\n\nIII. That which accompanies the idea of being is the idea of permanence\namidst succession, and the relation of this permanence as the point of\nconnection, the immovable centre in the midst of succession.\n\n16. If, therefore, we wished to define substance, we could only say\nthat it is _a permanent being in which occur the changes which are\npresented to us in the sensible phenomena_. Our knowledge is all\nreduced to this; all that we can add beside, is only hypothesis or\nconjecture. In vain you ask me, what is this being? Give me the\nintuition of the essence of corporeal things, and I will tell you;\nbut while I know them only by their effects, that is, the impressions\nwhich they produce in me, I cannot answer you. I know that it is\nsomething; I know its relation to its forms; I know that the forms are\nin the subject, and are not the subject; but here is the limit of my\nknowledge. The object corresponding to the idea composed of a permanent\nbeing and its relation to various forms is what I call corporeal\nsubstance.\n\n17. Since the substance changes its accidents, remaining the same\nitself, it follows that its existence is independent of the accidents.\nAbstracting, for the present, whether it can or cannot exist without\nany, I only affirm that none in particular is necessary to it. Here\nwe must take note of the difference between substance in itself, and\nin the medium by which it is manifested to us, and placed in active\nor passive communication with us. The accidents are this medium; they\nare the transitory forms it puts on. How can we know the existence of\nbodies, except by sensations? The object of sensation is not substance\nin its inner nature, but only its qualities as affecting us.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\nRELATION OF CORPOREAL SUBSTANCE TO ITS ACCIDENTS.\n\n\n18. In the idea of corporeal substance the idea of permanence is\nperfectly included, the idea of unity only imperfectly. The unity which\nwe conceive in every corporeal substance is a factitious unity; since\nthat which is constant is not one but an aggregate of many, as is\nproved by the divisibility of matter; out of every corporeal substance\nwe may make many which will have the same right as the first to be\ncalled substances. A piece of wood is a substance; but we may slit it\ninto several pieces which will be equally substances. These pieces,\njoined together, formed what are called _one_ substance; but it is\nclear that this unity was very imperfect, and was rather a union than a\nunity, and that if we consider it as _one_, it was in relation to the\nunity of effect which it produced in us, by the connection which it\ngave to our sensations and to the phenomena which resulted from it.\n\n19. Hence, every corporeal substance involves multiplicity, or\ncombination of the elements which compose it. Experience informs us\nthat this combination is not permanent; there is, consequently, no\ncorporeal substance which does not imply at least one modification,\nnamely, the arrangement of its parts. Abstracting the changes which\nthis modification may undergo, it can never be confounded with the\nsubstance: although the bodies might be presented constantly to our\nsenses with the same arrangement of the parts, the permanent _being_\nwould be in the parts, not in their arrangement. The latter is\nsomething external which is added to the thing existing; there can be\nno union and combination without parts which are united and combined.\n\n20. A difference which we observe between the substance and\nits modifications is, that the substance is independent of the\nmodifications, but the modifications are not independent of the\nsubstance. The substance, while remaining the same, changes its\naccidents, but an accident cannot change its substance and remain the\nsame. The same block may receive different figures successively; but a\nfigure, numerically the same, cannot pass from one block to another.\nTwo blocks may have a similar or a different figure, whether cubic,\nspherical, or pyramidal, and one may take the figure of the other; but\nin that case, the figures are not identical, but similar, they are\nspecifically but not numerically the same.\n\n21. If I am asked how I know that there is only similarity and not\nnumerical identity in the figures which bodies take successively, that\nthere is no _permanence_ in the figures which change their subject,\nand consequently that the same figure cannot pass from one substance\nto another, in the same manner that the same substance passes from\none figure to another; I shall not find it difficult to prove what I\nassert.\n\nThere is no one who does not see what an extravagant thing it would\nbe for a cubic figure to leave a body and pass to another. What is\nthis figure separated from the body? How is it preserved during the\ntransition? Why is it not exactly the same in both, but presented\nwith slight modifications? Has it undergone a modification in its\npassage from one body to another? Then there would be a modification\nof a modification, and the figure in itself abstracted from all body,\nwould be a kind of substance of a secondary order, permanent under\nmodifications. These are but absurd dreams in which that is applied\nto the concrete which belongs to the idea only in the abstract. This\ntransition of the forms would suppose their separate existence, and\nthus we might have all kinds of abstract figures, cubes, spheres,\ncircles, triangles, etc., subsisting in themselves without application\nto any thing figured.\n\n22. A still stricter demonstration of this truth is possible. If we\nsuppose a figure, numerically the same, to pass from one body to\nanother; the block A, which loses the cubic form, transmits it to the\nbody B. Now, this individual form cannot be in both at the same time.\nSuppose that after the cubic form has left the block A, we turn it back\nbefore it has touched the body B, evidently it will not be the same\nin both: therefore the body B has not acquired the same, but only a\nsimilar form. It is also evident that in order to give the cubic form,\nwe need not take it from another; therefore, the form of one is not\n_individually_ that of the other; otherwise we should have to say that\nit is and is not, that it is preserved and ceases to exist at the same\ntime.\n\n23. The term _transmission_ or _communication_ of motion, which is so\nmuch used in physical science, expresses something real so long as\nlimited to the phenomenon which is under calculation; but it would be\nan absurdity, if it meant that the _same_ motion which was in one\nbody has _passed_ to another. The sum of the quantities of motion is\nthe same in elastic bodies after impact as before it; the velocity\nbeing divided between them, and the one gaining what the other loses.\nThis is proved by calculation, and confirmed by experience. But it is\nevident that one body does not impart the _same_ individual velocity\nwhich it contained to the other body; for not only can the velocity\nnot be separated from the body and pass from one subject to another;\nbut it cannot even be conceived except as a relation, the idea of\nwhich includes the ideas of a body moved, of space, and of time. It\nis true that Q representing the quantity of the motion before impact,\nthe value of Q remains the same after impact; but this only expresses\nthe phenomenon in relation to its effects, as subject to calculation;\nnot that the velocity in the second member of the equation is composed\nof the parts of the first. Let A and B represent two bodies, the\nindividual masses of which are expressed by these two letters; and V,\n_v_ their respective velocities before impact. The quantity of motion\nwill be Q = A \u00d7 V + B \u00d7 _v_. After impact there will be a new velocity\nwhich we may call _w_, and the quantity of motion will be Q = A \u00d7 _w_\n+ B \u00d7 _u_. Mathematically speaking, the value of Q will be the same;\nbut this only means that if the results of the motion be expressed in\nlines or numbers, we shall have the same after impact as before it; it\ndoes not and cannot mean that in the velocity _u_, considered as united\nto the subject, there is a portion of velocity which has been detached\nfrom V to be joined to _v_.\n\n24. Hence, we do not conceive the accidents of bodies as possible\nwithout a subject in which they are inherent; and that substances are\nnot inherent in another being, but are conceived and really exist\nwithout this inherence. A figure cannot exist without a thing figured,\nbut the thing figured may still exist, through all other things are\ndestroyed. The analysis of the nature of substance shows that its\nexistence supposes the existence of another being which produced\nit; but relation between them is that of cause and effect, not of\ninherence, or that of the subject and its modification.\n\n25. These last observations explain another mark of corporeal\nsubstances. In the third chapter of this book we found the three\ncharacteristics of being, the relation of the permanent to the\nvariable, and the subject of the variations; we now find a fourth,\nwhich is a negation, non-inherence in another. This negative\ncharacteristic is included in the positive one, _permanent subject of\nvariations_; for it is clear that in conceiving a subject _permanent\namid variations_ we do not include inherence, but rather deny it, at\nleast implicitly. Non-inherence supposes something positive, something\non which is founded the denial of the necessity of being inherent.\nWhat is this something? We know not. We know that it exists, but its\nexplanation is beyond our reach. It is probably inexplicable without\nthe intuition of the essence of things;--an intuition which we have not.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V.\n\nCONSIDERATIONS ON CORPOREAL SUBSTANCE IN ITSELF.\n\n\n26. The idea of substance, such as we have thus far explained it,\nimplies a relation to accidents in general. The idea we are now\nexamining is not that of an indeterminate substance, but of corporeal\nsubstance; and it must be confessed that it is difficult to conceive a\nparticular corporeal substance without any accident. If I take from\nthe paper, on which I am writing, its figure, extension, and all that\nrelates to my senses, what is there left for me to conceive something\nparticular and determinate, something which is not the idea of being\nin general, but of this being in particular? It is clear that, in\norder that the object may not disappear altogether, and losing its\nindividuality be confounded in the universal idea, I must reserve\nsomething by which I can say _this_: that is to say, that which is\nhere, or which has affected me in this or that manner, or has been\nthe subject of such or such modifications. I consider at least its\nposition with respect to other bodies, or its causality in relation to\nthe effects which it has produced in me, or its nature as the subject\nof determinate accidents. Just as the idea of finite substance in\ngeneral involves relation to certain accidents in general, the idea of\na particular substance involves relation to particular accidents.\n\n27. We find this relation in our mode of conceiving corporeal\nsubstance; we cannot assert that it is involved in the nature of the\nsubstance. This nature is unknown to us, and when we attempt to examine\nit, we pass to another question, that of the essence of bodies.\n\n28. Neither can we say how far the identity of the corporeal substance\ncontinues under its different transformations. The partisans of\ncorpuscular philosophy consider all transformations as mere local\nmotions, and all the variations which we see in bodies as mere results\nof the different position of the corpuscles among themselves. Leibnitz\nresolved matter into an infinity of monads, differing from the atoms\nof Epicurus, but conducing to the substantial invariability of bodies,\nwhich are only a collection of indivisible substances, which he calls\nmonads. The Aristotelians believed that, of the changes of bodies, some\nwere accidental, as figure, motion, density, warmth, cold, etc.; others\nsubstantial, as the change of wood to ashes. But in all the variety of\nsystems, all admit something permanent, the subject of the changes. The\nAtomists and Leibnitz evidently admitted the identity of the subject.\nAs to the Aristotelians, although the change which introduced a\nsubstantial form different from the first substantially transformed the\nbeing, so that after the change of the substantial form it could not\nbe said that one was substantially the other, they still thought there\nwas a common subject in these substantial transformations, and this\nwas what they called the first matter, _materia prima_. All systems of\nphilosophy admit this clear and evident truth, that in the midst of the\ntransformations of the corporeal world, there is something permanent.\n\n29. This corporeal substance being a reality, must not only exist, but\nit must be something determinate. This substantial determination of\nthe body, which makes it this particular thing, and distinguishes it\nin its internal nature, in its essence, from all other bodies of other\nspecies, the Aristotelians called the substantial form. The subject of\nthis form, or actuality, which was common to all bodies, they called\nthe _materia prima_, which was a pure potentiality, a sort of medium\nbetween pure nothing and actual being.\n\n30. Ever since there have been schools of philosophy, these points\nhave been disputed; and it is probable they always will be; but it is\nto very little purpose. We know the existence of the corporeal world,\nwe know its relations to ourselves, we know its properties and its\nlaws, so far as they are subject to our observation; but its intrinsic\nnature is beyond the reach of our senses, or our instruments. Increased\nacuteness of observation and improvement in the power and delicacy of\ninstruments, discovers new mysteries, and man finds the barriers which\nhe believed the _ne plus ultra_, removed from him as he advances. Will\nhe ever be able to pass them? Will he ever make the entire circuit\nof this scientific world? Is the knowledge of the intrinsic nature of\nthe subject of this infinity of phenomena which astonish us, reserved\nto the future? It is hard to believe it. The telescope, becoming more\nperfect, extends the limits of the universe, and seems to behold the\ninfinitely great; the perfection of the microscope, advancing in the\nopposite direction, regards the infinitely little. Where are the\nlimits? It is probable that man is not permitted to reach them while\nin this world. The mind of man in its fruitful activity, struggles\nalternately after the two extremes, but just as he flatters himself\nhe is reaching the last limit, he feels that something stronger than\nhimself withholds him from attaining the object of his noble desires;\nit is the chain that binds him to the mortal body, and obstructs the\nflight of his pure spirit.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI.\n\nSUBSTANTIALITY OF THE HUMAN ME.\n\n\n31. We have not found perfect unity in corporeal substances: all that\nare subject to our senses may be resolved into a number of others\nequally substances in their turn; a body is rather an aggregate of\nsubstances, than one substance. We do not find the unity in the bodies;\nwe attribute it to them either inasmuch as they form a common link of\nour sensations, or inasmuch as we consider the different substances\nsubordinated to one being and governing substance. Thus the parts of\nan animated body constitute a sort of unity, inasmuch as they are\nsubordinate to the principle which animates them.\n\n32. We do not conclude from this that true unity does not exist in\nbodies; if we could know their essence, we should doubtless discover\nit, whether in the monads, as maintained by Leibnitz, or in something\nelse more or less resembling them. Although this knowledge of their\nessence is denied us, reason leads us to this unity. The composite\nis formed of parts; if these parts are in turn formed of others, we\nmust at last come to something which has no parts; here we find the\nindivisible, or rather, the true unity. This reasoning is equally\nvalid, even though we suppose matter to be infinitely divisible.\nInfinite divisibility would suppose an infinity of parts into which\nany body may be divided: these parts would therefore exist; these\ninfinitesimal elements would be real: the unity would be in them.\n\n33. Independently of the external world, we find the idea of substance\nin ourselves; consciousness reveals its real application and perfect\nunity. Consciousness makes known to us that we think, desire, feel, and\nexperience an infinity of affections, some of which are subject to our\nwill and are the product of the internal activity of our soul; others\nare independent of us, they come without our will, and often against\nit, and it is not always in our power to reproduce them even if we wish\nit.\n\nThis ebb and flow of ideas, volitions, and sentiments, have a point\nin which they are connected, a subject which receives them, remembers\nthem, combines them, and seeks or avoids them; this being, of which we\nare internally conscious, philosophers have called the _me_. It is one\nand identical under all transformations; this unity, this identity, is\nan indisputable fact which consciousness reveals to us. Who could make\nus doubt that the _me_ which thinks at the present moment is not the\nsame which thought yesterday, which thought years ago? Notwithstanding\nthe variety of thoughts and desires, the changes of opinion and will,\nwho could deprive us of the firm and deep conviction which we have\nthat we are the same who experience them all, that there is something\nhere within us which is the subject of them all?\n\n34. If there were not something in us permanent in the midst of this\nvariety, the consciousness of the _me_ would be impossible. Memory and\ncombination would also be impossible; for there would be within us only\na succession of unconnected phenomena. Thinking is impossible without\nsomething which thinks and remains identical under the variety of the\nforms of thought. There is, therefore, within us a simple subject which\nconnects all the changes which occur in it: there is a substance. In it\nthere is unity: the unity which we only find in corporeal substances\nafter an infinite series of decompositions, is presented to us in\nthe spiritual substance, at the first instant, as a simple internal\nfact, without which, all the phenomena which we perceive within us are\nabsurd, and all experience of the external world impossible.\n\nWithout the unity of the _me_ there can be no sensation, and without\nsensation no experience of the beings around us.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII.\n\nRELATION OF THE PROPOSITION, I THINK, TO THE SUBSTANTIALITY OF THE ME.\n\n\n35. The proposition, _I think_, can have no sense unless we admit\nthat the soul is a substance. Philosophy loses its resting-point, and\nall that experience within us is a series of unconnected phenomena,\nincapable of being observed, or subjected to any rule.\n\n36. My present thought is not individually my thought of yesterday,\nas my thought of to-morrow will not be my thought of to-day. These\nthoughts, considered in themselves and abstracted from a subject in\nwhich they are found, have no connection with one another: perhaps\ntheir objects are without any relation to each other, or even\ncontradictory; perhaps the thought of to-day is the denial of the\nthought of yesterday.\n\n37. The same is true of all thoughts, all acts of the will, of all\nsentiments, imaginary representations, and sensations, and, in general,\nof all that I experience within myself. Turning my attention to all\ninternal affections, whatever they may be, I see in them only a\nseries of phenomena, a sort of current of existences passing away and\ndisappearing, some never to return, others to reappear at a different\ntime, _expressly_ presenting this difference. The reappearance is not\nindividual, but similar: the affection which is repeated is not the\nsame, but another resembling it. When the affection returns, I am\nconscious of its presence at the time, and conscious of its presence at\na previous time; this double consciousness constitutes recollection,\nmakes me distinguish between the two affections, and necessarily\nimplies the judgment that one is not the other. There would be no\nrecollection, if the affection _recalling_ were identified with the\naffection _recalled_. A thing _presents_ itself, but does not _recall_\nitself.\n\n38. Therefore every thing passes away within us never to return, the\ndisappearance is real, the reappearance but apparent; that which ceases\nto be can never return to be again; there may be a similar thing, but\nnot the same; that which was, is passed, and time does not retrace its\nsteps.\n\n39. Therefore, the series of internal phenomena, considered in\nthemselves and abstracted from the subject in which they reside, are\nnecessarily unconnected, and there is no way of subordinating the terms\nof the series to any law, or connecting link.\n\n40. Still this law exists in all our intellectual acts; reason, without\nlaws which govern it, would be the greatest of absurdities; this link\nis found in all our affections. That they pass from us with their\ndistinction and difference and resemblance is a fact of our mind, to\nwhich we are subjected, as to a primitive and inevitable condition of\nour existence.\n\n41. The proposition, _I think_, in the sense in which the word _think_\nincludes all internal affections, does not relate to isolated phenomena\nalone, but it necessarily implies a point, which we call the _me_, in\nwhich these phenomena are connected. If this point does not exist,\nif it is not one and identical, the thought of to-day can have no\nconnection with the thought of yesterday: they are two distinct things,\nat different times, and perhaps contradictory: when I say to-day, _I\nthink_, and mean that the _I_ is the same as in the proposition, _I\nthought yesterday_, my language would be absurd; if they are mere\nphenomena, two thoughts without any connecting link, the _me_ is\nnothing, I cannot say, _I thought, I think_; but I must say _there\nwas_ thought, _there is_ thought. If, then, you ask me, _where? in\nwhom?_ I must reply, that there is no _where_, no _who_; I must deny\nthe supposition, and confine myself to repeating, _there was_ thought,\n_there is_ thought.\n\n42. To say _me_, it is necessary to suppose a permanent reality; a\nreality, because that which is not real is nothing; permanent, because\nthat which passes away disappears, ceases to be, and cannot serve as\nthe point to unite other things.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII.\n\nREMARKS ON THE SOUL'S INTUITION OF ITSELF.\n\n\n43. The permanent reality of the _me_, considered in itself and\nabstracted from the things which pass within it, is a fact which we\nperceive in our intuition, and which we express in all our words.\nIf this presence, this internal experience, be what is called the\nintuition of the soul, then we have intuition of our soul. This\nintuition is reproduced in every particular intuition, and in all\ninternal affections in general; for, although they are isolated\nphenomena, they imply the intuition of the _me_, because they imply the\nconsciousness of themselves.\n\n44. The variety of isolated phenomena instead of proving any thing\nagainst the unity of the intuition of the _me_, on the contrary,\nevidently confirms it. If we conceived only one fixed and identical\nthought, there would be less necessity of uniting with it the idea of a\nsubject in which it resides; but when there is a multitude of different\nphenomena, which cannot co-exist without contradiction, we must refer\nthem to something constant, or else the internal world is converted\ninto an absolute chaos.\n\n45. The soul has, therefore, an intuition of itself; that is to say,\nit is conscious of its unity in multiplicity, of its identity in\ndiversity, of its permanence in succession, of its constant duration\nin the appearance and disappearance of phenomena. Either we must\nadmit this, or we must renounce the legitimacy of all testimony of\nconsciousness, and embrace the most complete skepticism that ever\nexisted, extending it both to the internal and to the external world.\n\n46. We find within us the realization of the indeterminate conceptions\nof _being_, _unity_, _permanence_, and _subject of modifications_;\nthis realization is revealed by consciousness, and is confirmed by the\nlogical analysis of the series of phenomena in their relation to a\npoint of connection.\n\n47. All that is included in the idea of finite substance is contained\nin these four terms: _being_, _one_, _permanent_, and the _subject of\nmodifications_. All this is in our soul, and we perceive by experience\nthat we are internally affected by it. If this perception is called\nintuition, we have intuition of the substantiality of our soul.\n\n48. The thinking being not only perceives itself but it knows itself\nas a real object, to which, by means of reflection, it applies the\nideas of being, unity, permanence, and the subject of modifications.\nTherefore the soul may be the true predicate of propositions resting on\nlogic and consciousness.\n\n49. Have we any other intuition of the soul, besides that which has\njust been explained? To this I answer, that we have not while in\nthis life, and at the same time I ask whether any other than that of\nconsciousness is possible. Accustomed as we are to sensible intuitions\nwhich imply extension in space, we ask what the soul is in itself, and\nwe do not seem to be satisfied without seeing its image. Leaving the\norder of sensibility and rising to the purely intellectual sphere, who\nknows whether we can say that there is no other intuition of the soul\nthan that which we now have; whether the soul in itself, in the unity\nand simplicity of its entity, is the force which we perceive; whether\nthis force is the subject of the modifications, the substance, without\nits being necessary to imagine another support in which this force\nmight reside? Why may not this force be subsistent? Why must we imagine\nanother _substratum_ to support it? If it were so, if we must apply to\nthe substance of the soul what the great Leibnitz thought applicable to\nall substances, making the idea of substance to consist in the idea of\nforce; why may we not say that the pressure of the internal sense, the\nconsciousness of itself, is all the intuition of itself which the soul\ncan have?\n\n50. You may ask me, what is the soul separated from the body? What will\nit perceive and know of itself, when it exists _alone_? As though it\ndid not now perceive and know _alone_, or as though the organs, which\nit uses, could perceive or think. Does it, perchance, know how it uses\nthem, or even know otherwise than by experience that it uses them at\nall? Is it not alone in the depths of its activity with its thoughts\nand the acts of its will, its sentiments, its joy and its sadness,\nits pleasures and its pains? Say, then, that perhaps we do not form\nsufficiently clear ideas of the _mode_ of consciousness which we shall\nhave of ourselves after this life; say that perhaps other intuitions\nof our self are possible; but do not imagine the soul as inconceivable\nalone. Leave me thought, will, sentiment, all that is internally\npresent to my consciousness, to find myself; I ask no more. Give me\ncommunication with other beings, which affect me or are affected by\nme, which transmit to me thoughts and wills, which cause me pleasure\nor pain; I need nothing more in order to have a world which I can very\nwell conceive. I am ignorant of the quality of the things, not of their\npossibility: the soul changes its state, not its nature.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX.\n\nKANT'S OPINION OF THE ARGUMENTS PROVING THE SUBSTANTIALITY OF THE SOUL.\n\n\n51. The psychological arguments in favor of the substantiality of the\nsoul are mere paralogisms, in Kant's opinion; although they prove an\nideal substance, they can never lead to a real substance. Besides the\narguments with which this philosopher attacks the psychological proof\nof the substantiality of the soul, he had also a personal argument,\nwhich, considering the weakness of the human heart, was very powerful.\nHe had either to place the substantiality of the soul in doubt, or\nelse consent to the ruin of his whole system. \"It would be,\" he says,\n\"a great and even the only stumbling-block in our whole _critique_, if\nthere were a possibility of demonstrating _a priori_ that all thinking\nbeings are in themselves simple substances, and (which is a consequence\nof the principle of this demonstration) are inseparably accompanied\nby personality and the consciousness of their existence distinct from\nall matter. For, in this case, if we had taken a single step out of\nthe world of the senses, we should have entered into the field of the\n_noumena_, and no one would dispute our right to extend farther into\nit, to build in it, and, according to each one's good luck, to take\npossession of it.\"[43]\n\n[43] Von den Paralogismen der reinen Vernunft, p. 297.\n\n52. In Kant's conception, the first paralogism of pure psychology in\nfavor of the substantiality of the soul is the following:--\"Every\nthing, the representation of which is the _absolute substance_ of our\njudgments, and which cannot serve as a determination of any thing else,\nis a substance. The _me_, as thinking being, is the absolute substance\nof all possible judgments, and this representation of itself cannot be\nthe predicate of any thing else; therefore the _me_, as thinking being,\nis a substance.\"\n\nThese are the terms in which he presents the psychological reasoning\nwhich he proposes to attack, in the first edition of his _Critic\nof Pure Reason_; in the second edition, wishing to be more clear,\nor, perhaps, more obscure, he expresses the same argument in these\nwords:--\"That which cannot be thought otherwise than as subject, does\nnot exist otherwise than as subject, and is therefore substance. Now a\nthinking being, regarded merely as such, cannot be thought otherwise\nthan as subject. Therefore it exists only as such, that is, as\nsubstance.\" We must confess that if psychology could find no clearer\nexpounders than Kant, and should have to use in its demonstrations the\nforms which this philosopher employs in these passages, it would have\nbut a small number of proselytes, for the simple reason that very few\ncould understand its language. I am sure that but few readers would be\nconvinced by the syllogisms proving the substantiality of the soul,\nsuch as Kant presents them; in this way there is a great advantage in\nthe position of the philosopher; for he has to prove that an argument,\nthe force of which has not been felt, has no force. But let us suppose\nthe philosopher to descend from the Olympus of incomprehensible\nabstractions, and deign to use the humble language of mortals,\npresenting the psychological argument under a more simple form, who\nknows but what the conviction which it would produce would be somewhat\nmore difficult to destroy? Let us see.\n\n53. A substance is a being remaining identical with itself, a permanent\nreality in which different modifications occur. But there is within me\nthis reality which, remaining identical, has a variety of thoughts,\nacts of the will, sentiments, and sensations, as is revealed by\nconsciousness. Therefore that which is within me is a substance.\n\nI defy all the philosophers in the world to point out a false, or even\na doubtful proposition in this syllogism, or to show a fault in the\nconsequence, without placing themselves in open contradiction with the\ntestimony of consciousness on the one hand, and with all the laws of\nhuman reason on the other.\n\n54. Kant pretends that the argument in favor of the substantiality\nof the soul is not conclusive, because the pure categories, and\nconsequently that of substance also, have absolutely no objective\nvalue, except in so far as applied to the diversity of an intuition\nsubject to them: that is to say, the conception of substance is a\npurely logical function, without any objective value or meaning except\nas referred to sensible things, and as soon as we leave the sphere\nof sensibility, it can lead to no result. It is evident that the\nsubstantiality of the soul cannot be the object of sensible intuition;\nconsequently, to apply to the soul the idea of substance is to extend\nthe conception beyond what its nature allows. It must be confessed\nthat Kant's reasoning is conclusive, if we admit his principles; and\nhere we have a proof of the necessity of combating certain theories,\nwhich, because they are in the realm of abstractions, seem innocent,\nbut in reality are most dangerous, on account of the results to which\nthey lead. Such is the system of Kant as denying the objective value\nof the pure categories, and this is why I have combated it,[44]\ndemonstrating: I. That indeterminate conceptions, and the general\nprinciples founded on them, have an objective value beyond the field of\nsensible experience, in respect to beings which are in nowise subject\nto our intuition; II. That it is not true that we have only sensible\nintuition, for we have intuitive knowledge of a pure intellectual\norder, above the sphere of sensibility. This doctrine overthrows the\nwhole of Kant's argument, for it destroys its foundation.\n\n[44] See Bk. IV., Chs. XIII., XIV., XV., XVI., XXI., XXII.\n\n55. The German philosopher seems to have perceived the weak point\nin his reasoning, and therefore he tries to give the psychological\nargument in such terms as to show a transition from the ideal order\nto the real, keeping out of sight the point which unites things\nso distant. His language is purely ideological: \"Every thing, the\n_representation_ of which is the absolute substance of our judgments,\nand which cannot serve as a _determination_ of any thing else, is a\nsubstance.\" Observe that he defines substance by the _representation_\nand the incapacity of serving as a _determination_ of any thing else;\nthat is, by purely ideological or dialectic attributes. The form which\nhe employs in the second edition suffers from the same defect. \"That\nwhich cannot be _thought_ otherwise than as _subject_, does not exist\notherwise than as subject, and is, therefore, substance.\" Why does he\nnot tell us that the substance here spoken of is a permanent being,\nin which the modifications are realized, but which remains identical\nwith itself? Why does he speak only of _representation_, of _thought_,\nof the _determination_ or predicate? Because it helped his purpose to\npresent the argument as a sophism in which there is a transition from\none order to another entirely different order; because it was for his\ninterest to give an obscure form, so that he could make the following\nobservations:--\"In the major, a being is spoken of which can be thought\nunder any view in general, and consequently, also, as it is given in\nthe intuition. But, in the minor, the same being is spoken of in so\nfar as it is regarded as subject, in relation only to thought and the\nunity of consciousness, but not at the same time in relation to the\nintuition by which the unity is given to the thought as its object.\nConsequently the conclusion follows only by a fallacy, _per sophisma\nfigur\u00e6 dictionis_.\" And in a note he says: \"Thought is taken in the two\npremises in an entirely different sense; in the major, as belonging\nto an object in general, and such, consequently, as it may be given\nin the intuition; but in the minor only as it is in relation to the\nconsciousness of self, where it is not thought in any object, but is\nmerely represented in relation to itself, as subject, as the form of\nthe thought. In the first case, a thing is spoken of which can only\nbe thought as subject; but, in the second, thought is spoken of, not\nthings, since abstraction is made of all objects; and in the thought\nthe _me_ always serves as subject of the consciousness; hence the\nconclusion which follows is not, that I cannot exist otherwise than\nas subject, but only, that I cannot make use of myself in the thought\nof my existence, otherwise than as subject of the judgment, which is\nan identical proposition, revealing absolutely nothing concerning\nthe manner of my existence.[45] It makes one indignant to see a man\nattempt, by such a confusion of ideas and of words, to rob the human\nmind of its existence; for it amounts to the same thing, to deny\nthat it is a substance. It makes one indignant to see a philosopher\npretend, by such an absurd confusion, to attack one of the clearest,\nmost evident, and most irresistible arguments which can be presented to\nhuman reason. I thought yesterday, I think to-day: in all the variety\nof my situations, I find myself the same and not another; this reality,\nwhich remains identical in the midst of diversity, I call my soul;\ntherefore my soul is a permanent reality, the subject of modifications;\ntherefore it is a substance. Can any thing be clearer?\"\n\n[45] Critik der reinen Vernunft, p. 298.\n\n56. Psychology does, it is true, make use of the general idea of\nsubstance in proving the substantiality of the soul: but it appeals\nto a fact of experience, to the testimony of consciousness, in order\nto apply this idea to the present case. What does Kant mean when he\npretends to have demonstrated that the conception of a thing which\ncan exist of itself as subject, but not as mere attribute, does not\ninvolve any objective reality? When he speaks of _subject_, does he\nmean a real subject, the subject of modifications? Then the soul is a\nsubject; but we do not say that it is a subject _only_; we conceive\nits reality under this aspect without, therefore, denying that it has\nother characters: on the contrary, we expressly acknowledge that it is\nan active principle, which implies something more that the mere subject\nof modifications, for this last is a passive, rather than an active,\nquality. If by subject Kant understands the logical subject, we deny\nthat this is exclusively the character of the soul in such a way that\nit cannot logically be the attribute or predicate of a proposition.\n\n57. \"The conception of a thing,\" says Kant, \"which can exist as its\nown subject, but not as a mere predicate, draws with it no objective\nreality; that is, one cannot know whether any object corresponds to\nit, since one cannot conceive the possibility of such a manner of\nexisting, consequently there is absolutely no cognition. In order that\nit may indicate under the denomination of substance, an object which\nmay be given, in order that it may be a cognition, a constant intuition\nmust be placed at the foundation, as the indispensable condition of\nthe objective reality of a conception, namely, that by which alone\nthe object is given. But we have nothing constant in the internal\nintuition, for the _me_ is only the consciousness of my thought; if,\ntherefore, we confine ourselves to the thought alone, the necessary\ncondition of the application of the conception of substance, that is,\nof a subject subsisting in itself as thinking being.\"[46]\n\n[46] Critik der reinen Vernunft, p. 299.\n\nNo argument could be more common-place and sophistical. Kant does\nnot admit the substantiality of the soul, because we cannot take the\nsubstance itself and present it in sensible intuition; but then he\nought not to speak of _pure intellectual conceptions_ of _logical\nfunctions_, or of _ideas_; for all these are things which are out of\nthe order of sensibility, and therefore cannot be given us in the\nsensible intuition. Yet they really exist as internal phenomena, as\nsubjective facts, of which Kant is continually talking, and to which\nhe devotes the greater part of his _Critic of Pure Reason_. Will it,\nperchance, be said that the pure idea of relation means nothing,\nbecause we cannot present an abstract relation in sensible intuition?\nWill it be said that the principles from which proceed the phenomena\nof attraction, affinity, electricity, magnetism, galvanism, light, and\nall that charms or astonishes us in nature,--will it be said that they\ndo not exist, that they are not permanent things, but empty words,\nbecause we cannot represent them in sensible intuition? Such a manner\nof arguing is unworthy of a philosopher. It might be excusable in an\nuneducated person, accustomed only to the phenomena of sensibility,\nwho had never descended to the depths of the soul in the sphere of\npure intelligence,--such a person might be pardoned if, when we speak\nof a _spirit_, a _cause_, or a _substance_, he should ask, _what is\nit?_ and require us to show the insensible under a sensible form: but\none who pretends to excel all philosophers, ancient or modern, one\nwho from the inaccessible height of his wisdom looks down with such\nsovereign contempt on all the arguments which were before regarded as\nconclusive, ought to produce some other title of his superiority than\nmerely saying: one cannot conceive the possibility of such a manner of\nexisting: we have no internal intuition of this permanent thing which\nyou speak of; the _me_ is only the consciousness of my thought. What\nthen! is any thing more necessary in order to prove what we propose,\nthan this consciousness. Is not this consciousness _one_ amid the\nvariety of our thoughts? Is there not a point connecting yesterday's,\nto-day's, and to-morrow's thought? Different and contradictory as they\nare, do they not all belong to the same thing, to this _thing_ which we\ncall the _me_, and which authorizes us to say: _I_ who think to-day,\nam the same who thought yesterday, and who will think to-morrow?\nCan any reasoning be clearer or more convincing than affirming the\nreal permanence which we perceive in the internal testimony of our\nconsciousness? I do not see my substance, you may say, I have no\nintuition of it; I only perceive my consciousness. What more do you\nwant? This consciousness which you experience, which is one amid\nmultiplicity, identical amid distinction, constant amid variety, and\npermanent in the midst of the succession of the phenomena which appear\nand disappear; this consciousness, which is no one of your individual\nthoughts, which endures while they pass away, not to return; this\nconsciousness presents to you the substantiality of your soul, it\npresents it in a certain manner in intuition, not in the intuition\nof _sensations_, but in the intuition of the _internal sense_, as\na thing affecting you deeply, and the presence of which you cannot\ndoubt, as you do not doubt the pleasure or pain in the act by which you\nexperience it.\n\n58. In attacking the psychological for the substantiality of the\nsoul, Kant supposes that those who make use of it, attempt to prove\nthe substantiality of the soul by starting from the pure and simple\ncategory of substance. This mistake might have occasioned the form\nin which Kant presents this argument; but we have seen that, whether\nintentionally or not, this form is arranged in the best manner for\naffording weak points for the attacks of the philosopher. Open any\ntreatise on psychology and you will find that although the general\nidea of substance is employed, it is only made use of after it has\nbeen legitimated by a fact of experience; it is not inferred from the\npure category of substance that the soul is a substance; but only\nafter we have established the idea of substance as a general type, we\nscrutinize the depth of consciousness to see if there is any thing\nthere to which this type may apply. This is what has been done in the\npreceding paragraphs, and if Kant had wished to be more exact in his\naccount of the opinions of his adversaries, he would not have said that\nthe first argument of rational psychology only gives a light, which is\npretended to be true, when it presents the constant logical subject of\nthe thought, as the cognition of the real subject of the inherence.\n\"Far from its being possible,\" he says, \"to infer these properties\nfrom the pure and simple category of a substance, on the contrary, the\npermanence of a given object cannot be taken as a principle, except by\nstarting from experience, when we wish to apply to it the empirically\ngeneral conception of a substance.\" The philosopher is right: the\nproperties of the pure and simple category of a substance cannot take\nus out of the ideal order, unless we rest on a fact of experience; but\nhe forgets a part of the psychological argument when he adds that in\nthe present case we have not placed at the foundation any experience,\nand that we have only drawn our conclusions from the conception of\nthe relation of every thought to the _me_ as the common subject with\nwhich this thought is connected. The experience exists in this very\nconsciousness of the relation of all thoughts to the _me_; in this\npoint with which they are all connected; the relation to the _me_ is\nnot possible if the _me_ is not something; thoughts cannot be connected\nin the _me_ if the _me_ is a pure nothing. \"Referring the thought to\nthe _me_,\" Kant goes on to say, \"we cannot establish this permanence\nby a certain observation; because, although the _me_ is found at\nthe bottom of every thought, besides that there is no intuition to\ndistinguish it from every other perceptible object, it is connected\nwith this representation.\" It is true that we do not perceive the\npermanent _me_ in the same manner that we do the objects of the other\nintuitions; but we perceive it by the internal sense, by that presence,\nof which we cannot doubt, and which, as Kant himself confesses, makes\nus refer all thoughts to the _me_ as to a common subject which connects\nthem.\n\n59. \"It may be observed,\" he says, \"that this representation (that of\nthe _me_) is constantly reproduced in every thought; but not that it\nis a fixed and permanent intuition in which variable thoughts succeed\neach other.\" There is an evident contradiction in this passage. The\nrepresentation of the _me_ is constantly reproduced in every thought:\nbut the _me_ either means nothing, or it means something identical\nwith itself; for if the _me_ which thinks to-day is not the _me_ which\nthought yesterday, the word _me_ means something very different from\nwhat all the world understands by it; therefore, if the representation\nof the _me_ returns in every thought, the _me_ is the same in every\nthought; therefore the _me_ is fixed and permanent, and consequently\nthe _me_ is a substance in which all variable thoughts succeed.\n\n60. I cannot see any answer to this argument, founded on Kant's own\nwords when establishing a phenomenon, the existence of which he was\nunable to place in doubt, namely, the presence of the _me_ in every\nthought. This is not the place to examine the philosophical questions\non the uninterruptedness of consciousness, or whether there is any\ntime in which the soul does not think, and is not conscious of itself.\nMany philosophers believe there is such an interruption; and they rest\ntheir opinion on our experience when asleep, and our not recollecting\nwhat happens to us in that state; but Leibnitz thinks that thought is\nnever entirely extinguished, that there is never an absolute pause\nof consciousness, that our thought is a light which sheds but little\nlustre at times, but which never goes entirely out. Whichever of these\nopinions be the true one, the permanence of the substance of the soul\nis beyond a doubt; and it is worthy of remark that the interruption of\nthought and of consciousness, far from favoring those who oppose the\npermanence of the soul, confounds them in a most conclusive manner. For\nif it is impossible to conceive, without supposing something permanent,\nhow different phenomena, continued in an uninterrupted series, are\nconnected in consciousness; it is still more inconceivable how they\ncan be connected, if we suppose this series to be interrupted, and\na certain space of time to intervene between the existence of the\nconnected phenomena.\n\n61. Let A, B, C, D be thoughts which are continued without any interval\nof time between them, and Q the consciousness through which they pass;\nif this Q is not something, it is impossible to conceive how the\nterms of the series can be connected, and, how, notwithstanding their\ndifference and diversity, there is found at the bottom of them all\nsomething constant and identical, which we call the _me_, and by virtue\nof which we can say: I, who think D, am the same who thought C, and B,\nand A.\n\nBut if the consciousness is interrupted, if some hours have passed\nbetween C and D, during which there was no thought, no consciousness,\nit is still more inconceivable how at the bottom of the thought _me_\nthere is found the same _me_ which was in the thought C; it is still\nmore inconceivable, because in thinking D we may say: I, who think\nD, am the same who thought C, and who have been for a certain time\ndeprived of thought. Without something permanent, something which\nlasts during the succession, how explain this connection? Are we,\nperchance, speaking of unknown facts? Is not this our daily experience\non awaking? If this is not conclusive, let us deny consciousness, let\nus deny reason; but let us not waste time in talking philosophy.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X.\n\nKANT'S OPINION OF THE ARGUMENT WHICH HE CALLS PARALOGISM OF PERSONALITY.\n\n\n62. Kant attacks the argument founded on the testimony of consciousness\nin a particular manner in the examination of what he calls _the\nParalogism of Personality_. He gives the argument in this form;\n\"Whatever has the consciousness of its numerical identity at different\ntimes is, by this fact alone, a person; this is verified of the soul;\ntherefore soul is a person.\" Kant uses the word _person_ in a very\nincorrect sense: it not only means an intelligent substance, but one\nthat is the complete principle of its actions, independently of all\nconnection with any other substance, or a union with a _supposition_.\nAt any rate, the German philosopher understands here by person an\nintelligent substance; and in this sense he proposes to combat the\nargument proving the personality of the soul.\n\n63. \"If I wish,\" he says, \"to know by experience the numerical\nidentity of any external object, I apply my attention to that which\nis constant in the phenomenon, to which all the rest is referred, as\na determination to its subject; and I observe the identity of the\nsubject at the time in which the determination changes. I am an object\nof the internal sense, and time is only the form of this sense; I\ntherefore refer all my successive determinations, and each one of\nthem in particular, to that which is numerically identical, in all\ntime, that is, in the form of the internal intuition of myself. Hence\nthe personality of the soul ought only to be deduced or concluded\nas a proposition perfectly identical with consciousness in time;\nconsequently, this proposition is valid _a priori_, because it does not\nreally announce any thing else than that in all the time in which I am\nconscious of myself, I am conscious of this time as a thing, which is\na part of my unity. This is the same as to say: All this time is in me\nas individual unity, or rather, I am in all this time with numerical\nidentity.\"\n\nIt would have been desirable if Kant had shown why the internal sense\nof the numerical identity may be expressed by the proposition; all this\ntime is in me as an individual unity, or in this other; in all the\ntime in which I am conscious of myself, I am conscious of this time as\na thing, which is a part of my unity. It is true that the numerical\nunity is perceived in the diversity of time; but it is not true that we\nare conscious of time as a thing which is a part of us. He is treating\nof the consciousness of self, as it is found in the greatest part of\nmankind, who, far from considering time as a thing which is a part of\nthemselves, regard it as a sort of vague extension or succession in\nwhich they and all that is variable exist.\n\nIt is well known that philosophers themselves dispute on the true\nnature of time; and that it is the form of the internal sense is an\nopinion of Kant's, which is not accepted by many others, and which, as\nI have shown,[47] he explains badly and proves still worse, although he\npretends to have raised his theory to the height of an incontestible\ndoctrine. Whether time is an internal or an external form, whether,\neven, it is an illusion or a reality, we perceive our numerical\nidentity in its succession; therefore when the German philosopher bases\nhimself on his theory of time, in order to attack the solidity of the\nargument of consciousness, he rests on a supposition which we are not\nrequired to admit, and what is more, he explains this sentiment of\nidentity in terms which no one ever used before him. If he wishes to\nmake time enter into the sentiment of numerical identity, he might say:\nI find myself in all this time in a numerical identity, or: all this\ntime has passed over me as over an individual unit; but not that we are\nconscious of time as a thing which is a part of ourselves. If we look\nto consciousness, we should rather be inclined to believe that time\nis a sort of successive extension, in which we live, and by which our\nexistence is measured.\n\n[47] See Book VIII., Chapters XII. and XIV.\n\n64. \"The identity of the person,\" continues Kant, \"must inevitably be\nfound in my consciousness; but if I regard myself from the point of\nview of another (as the object of his external intuition) this other\nobserver conceives me only in time; for, in the apperception, time\nis not strictly represented except within me; therefore he will not\nconclude my objective permanence from the _me_, which he admits, and\nwhich accompanies all representations in all time in my consciousness,\nand in a perfect identity. The time in which the observer places me\nnot being the same which is found in my own sensibility, but that\nwhich accompanies his intuition, it follows that the identity which is\nnecessarily joined to my consciousness, is not joined to his, that is,\nto the external intuition of my subject.\" It is difficult to understand\nprecisely what Kant means in this passage, and it seems very doubtful\nwhether he understood it himself; however, let us see what can be\ndeduced from it against the permanence of the soul.\n\nThe German philosopher admits that the identity of the person is\ninevitably found in our consciousness; that is, the _me_ finds itself\nnumerically identical in the diversity of time. It is also true that a\nstrange observer conceives the _me_ only in time, that is, if one man\nreflects on the soul of another man, he conceives it only in time. But\nthis does not show why Kant says that the observer would not infer from\nthis the objective permanence of the soul observed. What would happen\nwould be this. If the man who reflects on the soul of another man\nbelieves that same passes in the soul of this man which he perceives\nwithin himself, he will infer that the other soul is permanent, for the\nsame reason that he affirms the permanence of his own soul. It is true\nthat as he cannot enter into the consciousness of the other, he can\nonly know it by external marks; but if he is convinced that these marks\nare sufficient to denote a series of phenomena of consciousness similar\nto those which he experiences in himself, he will infer that the soul\nwhich he observes is as permanent as his own. What does Kant mean then,\nwhen he says that the identity which is necessarily connected with\n_my_ consciousness, is not connected with that of the observer? Who\never doubted this truth? Who ever supposed that the perception of the\nidentity in relation to one's own consciousness is not very different\nfrom that which relates to another's? Our own identity is revealed to\nus by immediate consciousness; the identity of another is shown to\nus by a series of external phenomena which lead us by reasoning and\nanalogy to the conviction that outside of us there are beings similar\nto ourselves.\n\n65. \"The identity of the consciousness of myself at different times,\"\nKant goes on to say, \"is only a formal condition of my thoughts and\ntheir connection; but it does not prove the numerical identity of\nmy subject, in which, notwithstanding the logical identity of the\n_me_, such a change may take place, as to render it impossible to\npreserve the identity of this _me_, which does not prevent our always\nattributing to it the identical _me_, which _me_ may still preserve\nin another state, and even in the metamorphosis of the subject, the\nthought of the previous subject, and transmit to it all that comes\nafterwards.\" This is precisely what Kant ought to have explained;\nbecause the phenomenon of the sentiment of identity in the midst of\ncontinual variety, is what irresistibly inclines us to believe that\nthe _me_ is something permanent. It is not true that we have only the\ntopical identity of the _me_, for we are not speaking of the subject\nof a proposition, but of a real subject, experienced, perceived in the\ndepth of our consciousness.\n\nKant imagines that he can explain this sentiment of identity with\ngreat simplicity. I will try to express his strange opinion in an\nintelligible manner. Let A, B, C, D, E, ... be instants of time, and\nlet _a_, _b_, _c_, _d_, _e_, ... be thoughts or any other internal\nphenomena, corresponding to them. At the instant A, the thought _a_\nexists. At the instant B, the thought _b_ succeeds. At the instant B,\nthe soul which existed at the instant A, no longer exists. The soul at\nthe instant B, is something entirely new; it is not _a_ but _b_. The\nsame is true of all the rest. But how, you will say, is it possible for\nthe soul at all these instants to believe itself the same? It is very\nsimple: the subject _a_ transmits the thought to the subject _b_; _b_\ntransmits its own and _a_'s to _c_. Nothing remains identical; but the\nconsciousness of the identity always lasts. Does not such an hypothesis\nseem truly wonderful and philosophical? What could be imagined clearer\nand more satisfactory?\n\nThe reader may perhaps think that I am jesting, and that I present\nKant's opinion under a ridiculous aspect for the sake of combating it\nmore easily; but it is just the reverse; the exposition which I have\njust made of Kant's philosophy is more serious than his own. These\nare his words: \"One elastic ball striking another in a right line,\ncommunicates to the latter its whole motion, and consequently its\nwhole state (considering only their positions in space). Admit now, by\nanalogy with these bodies, certain substances, of which one transmits\nrepresentations to another, with the consciousness which accompanies\nthem; we may then conceive a whole series of such representations,\nin which the first communicates its state, and the consciousness of\nits state to the second; the second communicates its state, together\nwith that of the preceding substance, to the third; the third, in like\nmanner, communicates the states of both of the preceding substances\ntogether with its own, and the consciousness which accompanies them to\nthe fourth. The last of the series will then have the consciousness\nof all the states of the substances which preceded it, as of its own;\nbecause these states, and the consciousness of these states have been\ntransmitted to it. Still it will not have been the same person in all\nthese states.\"\n\nKant, in trying to refute the psychological argument founded on\nconsciousness, overthrows and destroys the character of consciousness:\na transmitted consciousness is not a true consciousness; it is only the\ncognition of a previous thought.\n\nThese substances, existing successively and transmitting their\nconsciousness from one to another, would be something distinct from the\nact of consciousness, or they would not. If distinct, we must admit a\nsubject of the consciousness, which in itself, and as subject, does\nnot come under the sensible intuition; and consequently we may argue\n_ad hominem_, and retort Kant's objection against himself. If these\ntransitory substances are only the act of the consciousness, when the\nact ceases, nothing remains of the substances, and therefore, there is\nnothing transmissible.\n\nTransmission supposes something which may be transmitted; if, then, the\nact of consciousness is transmitted, it must be something permanent in\nitself, in the midst of the succession of the substances; and this is\na very strange conclusion to which the German philosopher is brought\nby his theory of transmission. All psychologists had said that the\nsubstance of the soul is permanent, and its phenomena transitory; now,\non the contrary, we find that the transitory is the substance, and that\nwhich is permanent is the phenomenon, or the act of consciousness which\nis transmitted.\n\n66. Perhaps it may be answered that by transmission is not meant the\ncommunication of any thing constant, but merely the succession of\nphenomena united by any tie among themselves. Thus, supposing the\ninstants A, B, C, D, the acts of consciousness, _a_, _b_, _c_, _d_,\ncorresponding to them, will not be strictly identical in number,\nbut successive, and connected. But this reply, which avoids the\nnecessity of admitting the permanence of the act of consciousness,\nexplains nothing, and makes it incomprehensible, how, at the instant\nD, for example, there can be consciousness of the acts _c_, _b_, _a_,\nwhich there is an irresistible inclination to believe have at bottom\nsomething numerically identical. When _d_ exists there is no longer\nany thing of _c_ left; there is no substance remaining, because, by\nthe supposition there either is no such substance, or it is something\ntransitory; there is no act of consciousness remaining, because _a_\nis numerically distinct from _c_, and besides, we have seen that\nthe permanence of the phenomena cannot be admitted. Therefore it is\nabsolutely impossible to explain or to comprehend how there can be in\nthe act _a_ the representation of _c_.\n\n67. To say that the phenomena are united by any tie whatever is to\nelude the difficulty by a foolish play upon words. What is the meaning,\nin this case, of uniting, of a tie? They are metaphors which if they\nmean any thing must express the permanence of some _thing_ amid the\nvariety of the phenomena; the tie, the bond, must extend to the various\nthings which it connects and unites: therefore it must be _common_ to\nthem all; and this something, whatever it be, which remains constant in\nvariety, we call substance.\n\n68. The mere succession of the phenomena or acts of consciousness is\nnot sufficient to transmit the belief of the numerical identity; if it\nwere, all men would be conscious of the previous acts of others. Let\n_a_, _b_, be two successive acts of consciousness: if, in order that\nthe act _b_, which is numerically distinct from _a_, may represent\nthe numerical identity of consciousness, it is sufficient that _b_\nshould succeed _a_; since this succession is met with in the acts\nof consciousness of different men, it must follow that all men have\nconsciousness of all the acts of the others. _Risum tematis?_ And yet\nthis conclusion is absolutely necessary: it cannot be avoided by saying\nthat there is a form of the internal sense, and that the succession\ntakes place in each man in his respective internal sense, and that\ntherefore the succession of the internal phenomena of one is in a\ndifferent time, in a different form from what it is in another. The\nwords, _respective_ internal sense, internal form of _each_ man, have a\nmeaning, if we admit something permanent in our interior; but if there\nis nothing but successive phenomena, the word _respective_ is absurd,\nbecause there can be no respective internal sense if there is nothing\nto which it can refer. Suppose the man M, and the man N be merely\na succession of phenomena, and in _each_ one there is only a mere\nsuccession: there is the same reason why the phenomena of N should be\nconnected with each other as with those of M. Therefore, if there is\na community of consciousness in the phenomena of M, without any other\nsufficient reason than the mere succession, this community should be\nfound in all the phenomena, because they all have the same sufficient\nreason.\n\n69. It must be observed that in all this argument, I abstract the\nnature of the substance of the soul, and only purpose to demonstrate\nthat we must admit something constant in the midst of the variety of\nthe phenomena, and common to them all. Call it a tie, a form, an act\nof consciousness, or what you will, it is either something real or it\nis not. If it is not something real, whoever expresses it, employs a\nword without any meaning: if it is something real, the substantiality\nof the soul is acknowledged, because a permanent reality is admitted\nin the midst of the variety of the phenomena. We, who admit this\nsubstantiality, do not pretend that the soul can be given in sensible\nintuition, nor that we can express in an exact definition its internal\nproperties abstracted from the phenomena which we experience in it.\nWhat we say is, that we know its real existence, its permanence, and\nits numerical identity in the midst of the succession and diversity\nof the phenomena. Therefore from the moment that it is admitted\nthat there is within us something real, permanent, and numerically\nidentical in the midst of diversity, the substantiality of the soul,\nwhich we defend, is admitted. Disputes may arise on the distinctive\ncharacter of its nature; whether it is or is not a force, as Leibnitz\nmaintained, whether its essence consists in thought, as was the\nopinion of Descartes: but these questions are foreign to the matter\nnow in hand. Is there something real and permanent amid the variety of\ninternal phenomena? If there is not, the consciousness of numerical\nidentity is absurd; if there is, then the substantiality of the soul is\ndemonstrated.\n\n70. \"The opinion of some ancient philosophers,\" says Kant, \"that all\nis transitory and nothing constant in the world, although it cannot be\nmaintained if we admit substances, still it cannot be refuted by the\nunity of consciousness; because we cannot even judge by consciousness,\nwhether, as something, we are or are not permanent; for we attribute\nto our identical _me_ only that of which we have consciousness, and\nthus we must necessarily judge that we are precisely the same in all\nthe durations of which we are conscious.\" Kant expressly acknowledges\nthat the judgment that we are the same is necessary, that is, that\nthe identity of the _me_ is for us a necessary fact of consciousness.\nIt would be difficult to imagine a confession more injurious and more\nconclusive against the arguments of the German philosopher. If we are\nforced to judge ourselves identical, if consciousness tell us so, can\nwe deny or doubt this identity without destroying the fundamental\nfact of all psychological investigations, and consequently falling\ninto the most complete skepticism? If the testimony of consciousness\nis not valid, if the judgment to which it _necessarily_ forces us is\nnot certain, what shall we catch hold of in order that we may not be\nprecipitated into the most absolute skepticism? where shall we look for\na solid foundation for the edifice of our knowledge?\n\n71. \"But,\" Kant continues, \"from the point of view of another, we\ncannot hold this judgment valid, because, finding in the soul no\nother constant phenomenon than the representation of the _me_ which\naccompanies and unites all the other phenomena, we can never decide\nthat this _me_ (a simple thought) is not as fleeting as the other\nthoughts, which are respectively connected by it.\" Do not, then, admit\nthat the representation of the _me_, although essentially representing\nan identity, is valid; say that, although transitory it _necessarily_\nbrings us to the illusion of permanence; but draw also all the\nconsequences of this doctrine, and maintain that human reason avails\nnothing, absolutely nothing; say that recollection is a pure illusion,\nthat although we are necessarily induced to believe that the thought\nwhich we now have is the recollection of another previous thought,\nthat all this is pure illusion; that we are not sure that there is\nthe relation of recollection, and that we only know that at present\nwe have the consciousness of a thought which _seems_ to us connected\nwith another previous thought; say too that reasoning has no validity,\nfor all conviction of ideas is impossible without memory; and that,\nalthough an internal representation necessarily produces an assent,\nwe must distrust the judgment which necessity demands: say too that\nall that we think, all that we perceive, all that we will, all that\nwe experience within us, cannot enable us to know any thing, that we\nare condemned to a complete impotence of acquiring any certainty of\nany thing; and that the language of every philosopher should be the\nfollowing: \"This now seems so; I am conscious of it; I know nothing\nfurther; I experience a necessity of believing it, but perhaps this\nbelief is a pure illusion; I know nothing of the external world; I know\nnothing either of the internal world; all knowledge is denied me; I\nmyself am only a succession of phenomena which pass away and disappear;\nan irresistible necessity impels me to believe that these phenomena\nhave a common tie, but this tie is nothing; because when a phenomenon\ndisappears nothing is before it; if I acknowledge any reality, no\nmatter what, I fall into the substantiality of the soul, which I have\nresolved not to admit; all is illusion, all is nothing, because, as I\nam not even certain of the facts of consciousness, I am not certain\neven of the illusion.\" Who can encounter such consequences?\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI.\n\nSIMPLICITY OF THE SOUL.\n\n\n72. I have confined myself in the preceding chapters to proving the\nsubstantiality of the soul; to do which it was only necessary to\ndemonstrate by the testimony of consciousness that there is within\nus a permanent reality, the subject of the modifications which we\nexperience. I shall now demonstrate that this substance is simple.\n\nTo proceed methodically, let us fix the meaning of the word _simple_.\nWhen many beings are united and form a collection, the result is called\na composite being; so that there is a true composition wherever beings\nsubstantially distinct are united; the band which unites them may be\nof different species, which produces the diversity of compositions.\nSimplicity is opposed to composition; the idea of simplicity\nessentially excludes the idea of composition; as this last includes a\n_number_ of distinct things which are united to form a whole, the idea\nof simplicity essentially excludes the idea of number of things united\nto form a whole. Therefore the simple is strictly one, and there is\nsimplicity in a substance when it is not a collection of substances.\n\nWhen, therefore, we say the substance of the soul is simple, we mean\nthat it is not a collection of substances, but one substance.\n\n73. The idea of simplicity thus determined with exactness, let\nus see if it belongs to our soul. As the soul is not given us in\nintuition after the manner of sensible things, and we only know it\nby the presence of the internal sense, and by the phenomena which we\nexperience in the depths of our consciousness, we must examine these\ntwo sources to see if we can find simplicity in them.\n\nIt is an indisputable fact that in all our acts, in all our internal\naffections, we perceive the identity of the _me_.[48] There is no\nidentity between things that are distinct: consequently the internal\nsense at once rejects the multiplicity of the soul. It may be said that\nthis identity does not exist between distinct substances, but that a\ncomposite substance is identical with itself, and perhaps the identity\nrevealed by consciousness is only the identity of a composite with\nitself: but this reply is destroyed by merely examining the testimony\nof consciousness. That which we perceive as various and multiple is not\nthe _me_, but that which takes place in the _me_: we think, we will, we\nperceive different things; but consciousness attests that what thinks\nthem, wills them, and perceives them, is one and the same, the _me_.\nTherefore, the testimony of consciousness alone proves the simplicity\nof the soul; for it is impossible to explain otherwise how we perceive\nwithin us the permanent unity amid the multitude of internal phenomena.\n\n[48] See Chaps. VI., VII., VIII., IX., and X.\n\n74. Abstracting the testimony of the internal sense, and looking only\nat the nature of the internal phenomena, it may be demonstrated that\nthe subject of them is a simple substance. If it were not so, the\nthinking substance would be composed of various substances; let us see\nwhat would follow from this supposition. Let the component substances\nbe three, for example, A, B, C; I say that this collection cannot\nthink. To demonstrate it with the most complete evidence, let us take\nthis judgment: metal is a body, and let us see if it is possible for\nthe collection of A, B, C, to form this judgment. Let us suppose the\nrepresentation of the subject, _metal_, to be in the substance A; the\nidea of the predicate, _body_, to be in B; and the general idea of the\nrelation of the predicate to the subject, or the copula, _is_, to be\nin C; can a judgment be the result? By no means. A will perceive the\nmetal, B the body, and C the general idea of the copula, _is_. Each\nof these substances will have consciousness of its own; but as it is\nnot conscious of what is in the other two, it can form no judgment,\nfor this essentially consists in the relation of the predicate to the\nsubject.\n\n75. If you say that each of the substances contains the representations\nof the three things, we shall have three judgments, and there will\nnot be one thinking being, but three. Besides, either of the three\nsubstances A, B, C, is composed of others, or it is not. If it is\nnot, is simple, and we have a simple and perceptive substance, why\nthen suppose three when one is enough? If it is composed of others,\nthe difficulty is increased; for supposing A to be formed of two\nsubstances, which we may call _m_, _n_; the representation of metal\nwhich was in A will be distributed between _m_ and _n_, in which case,\nfar from obtaining a judgment, we should not even have a subject; for\nit would not be possible to form the representation of metal, supposing\nit to be divided between _m_ and _n_.\n\nIf it is not possible to form a judgment, or even the idea of one term,\nit is evident that all reasoning and thought would be impossible; for\nreasoning implies a connection of judgments from which it deduces the\nconclusion contained in the premises.\n\n76. Acts of the will are also impossible in a composite substance;\nthere is no will where there is no cognition, and this latter is, as\nwe have just seen, inseparable from simplicity. But we may extend the\ndemonstration still further. An act of the will implies an inclination,\ntendency, or whatever it may be called, towards an object known. Let us\nsuppose the two substances A and B to compose a substance which has a\nwill; and let us suppose all that is necessary for the act of willing\nto be divided between them in such manner that the knowledge of the\nobject willed is in it, and the inclination or tendency in B; I say\nsuch an act or will is absurd. To feel the force of this truth let us\nsuppose that the act of the will is to be formed of the cognition of\none man, and the inclination of another towards the object known by\nthe first; the pure cognition of one is not the act of the will, and\nthe inclination of the other towards an object is impossible unless he\nhas the cognition of the object towards which he is inclined, because\nthis is equivalent to supposing a relation without any term to which it\nrelates. These contradictions must be admitted by every one who denies\nthe simplicity of the substances which will; for either the inclination\nand the cognition must be divided between the parts of the substances,\nor all concentrated in one part, and then the others are unnecessary.\n\nMoreover, the substances composing the substance which will are either\nsimple or composite; if simple, then there are simple substances which\nknow and will; if composite, each act of the will would be an aggregate\nof the action of the parts, and what would an act of the will be which\nshould consist in an aggregate?\n\n77. The union which we conceive in distinct substances is either\njuxtaposition in space, simultaneousness in time, or the concourse\nof forces producing a common effect: juxtaposition in space or\nsimultaneousness of time does not help us to explain thought, the\nact of the will, nor any internal phenomena; and neither does the\nconcourse of forces producing a common effect solve the problem.\nOn this supposition we should have to conceive internal phenomena\nas the products of an elaboration to which various substances have\noccurred. Let us for a moment admit this absurdity; we advance\nnothing by it, for we then ask, where does the phenomenon reside?\nIf in all the substances jointly it must be in itself composite,\nand its consciousness would also be composite; none of the component\nsubstances could say _I_ with respect to this phenomenon; there\nwould, therefore, be a multiplicity of consciousnesses. Either these\nconsciousnesses would be united in a point in order to form a common\nconsciousness, or they would not. If they are united, their point of\nunion must be a simple substance, or we relapse into the multiplicity\nof consciousnesses: if they are not united, the different internal\nconsciousnesses of each man will be like the consciousnesses of\ndifferent men; each substance will think its own, without knowing what\nthe other thinks.\n\n78. Finally, this divisibility of substance and of consciousness\nwill extend to infinity, or it will not; if the former, instead of\none thinking being, there will be an infinite number of thinking\nbeings within each one of us; if the latter, we must come to simple\nsubstances with thought and consciousness, which is precisely what our\nadversaries are opposed to. Infinite divisibility does not save them\nfrom simplicity; the division separates the parts, but it supposes them\ndistinct; therefore, infinite division must suppose an infinite number\nof simple beings which make the division possible.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XII.\n\nKANT'S OPINION OF THE ARGUMENT PROVING THE SIMPLICITY OF THE SOUL.\n\n\n79. Kant calls the argument, by which we have just proved the\nsimplicity of the soul, the second paralogism of psychology. He gives\nit in these terms: \"Every thing, the action of which can never be\nconceived as the concurrence of many agents, is simple: the soul or\nthinking substance is of this nature; therefore the soul is simple.\"\nThe German philosopher admits that this argument is not a mere sophism,\ninvented by some dogmatist for the purpose of giving his assertions\na slight appearance of truth; and he confesses that it seems to defy\nthe most attentive examination and the most profound reflection. Still\nhe flatters himself that he can expose its fallacy, showing that this\nprincipal support of rational psychology is a false foundation, and\nthat, consequently, the whole edifice of this science is built in the\nair.\n\n80. Kant observes that the _nervus probandi_ of the argument is in\nthe fact that many representations cannot form a thought, except\ninasmuch as they are contained in the absolute unity of the thinking\nsubject; \"but no one,\" he says, \"can prove this proposition _by\nconceptions_. Where could he begin? The proposition: 'A thought can\nonly be the effect of the absolute unity of the thinking subject,'\ncannot be analyzed; the unity of thought (and even thought results from\nmany representations) is collective; and as to simple conceptions,\ntheir unity may just as well be referred to the collective unity of\nsubstances which contribute to produce the thought (just as the motion\nof a body is the motion of all its parts) as to the absolute unity of\nthe subject. The necessity of the supposition of a simple substance\ncannot consequently be known by the rule of identity in a composite\nthought. No one who understands the reason of the possibility of\nsynthetic judgments _a priori_, as we have explained them above, will\ndare to affirm that this proposition can be known synthetically, and\nperfectly _a priori_, or by pure conceptions.\" This reasoning is pure\nsophistry, and will vanish in the light of evidence.\n\n81. In the first place, it is not correct to say that all thoughts\nresult from many representations; in the perception of a simple idea,\nas of being, for example, there are not many representations; therefore\nKant's argument fails at the first step; for if there be even one\nthought which requires simplicity, it has already been demonstrated\nthat, if the soul is simple in one instance it cannot cease to be so in\nanother.\n\n82. Let us now examine how the diversity of representations enter\ninto those thoughts which admit of this diversity. When these\nrepresentations form what is called a thought, they are united, as\nit were, in a point which requires the unity of the perception and\nof the subject perceiving. In the thought called judgment various\nrepresentations are combined, that of the subject and that of the\nobject; but these different representations do not constitute the\nthought called judgment, except inasmuch as they are presented as\nconnected with the relation which authorizes us to affirm or deny the\npredicate of the subject; therefore at the bottom of the diversity\nthere is unity, that is to say, the relation; therefore the thought by\nwhich this relation is perceived is one, and the action of perceiving\nis essentially one, notwithstanding the variety of the representations.\n\n83. There is no order in our thoughts except as we compare them with\neach other: all our intellectual acts are reduced to the perception and\ncomparison of ideas; in perception there is simplicity, as there must\nalso be in comparisons, since there can be no comparison of that which\nis varied, except by reducing the varied to that which is one, that\nis, to the relation which is perceived in the comparison. Therefore\nin every thought there is unity; thought can never be conceived as\nthe concurrence of many agents; therefore the proposition, which Kant\nconsidered indemonstrable, is demonstrated,--that many representations\ncannot form a thought except in so far as they are contained in the\nabsolute unity of a thinking subject.\n\n84. Let us present the same demonstration under a stricter form.\nSuppose A, B, C, to be the three agents concurring in the formation of\nthe thought; each part will yield its contingent; let us suppose _a_\nto correspond to the first, _b_ to the second, and _c_ to the third,\nthe result will be the union composed of _a_, _b_, and _c_; this will\nbe the thought; it will therefore be triple and can never constitute a\npoint of comparison; therefore, we must either reject this hypothesis,\nor deny thought. Kant's sophism proceeds from his attending solely\nto the diversity of the representations, and abstracting the unity\nwhich is always met with in the perception of this diversity; hence\nit is nothing strange that he does not find unity in the conception\nof thought. He presents this conception incompletely, or rather,\nfalsely; he presents thought as a collection of representations, and\nnot as a most simple point in which representations unite, in order\nto be perceived in the relation which they have among themselves. The\ndiversity of the representations does not form a collection after the\nmanner of sensible objects; the thought, in which the relation of two\ndifferent triangles is known, cannot be expressed by the sum of the\nfigures of the two triangles; it is something different from them;\nsomething which is in the midst of them; which unites them by comparing\nthem, and which joins their diversity in the unity of their relation.\n\n85. The example brought by Kant manifests the rudeness of his idea of\nthe character of the union of the representations in the formation of\na whole thought. The unity of the thought is, he says, collective, and\nmay be referred to the collective unity of many substances, just as the\nmotion of a body is the motion composed of all the parts of the body.\nHere we see clearly wherein Kant's equivocation consists; he takes\nthe collection of the representations for the thought which relates\nto them, and therefore it is no wonder that he cannot see the unity\nimplied in the diversity, on the supposition that this diversity has to\nbe thought.\n\nTo carry conviction to the farthest point, let us take this example of\nmotion, and suppose a cube to be moved. Let us call its eight verticles\nA, B, C, D, E, F, G, H; they all move, and the collection of their\nmotions, with those of the points which are between them, forms the\nwhole motion. What is there common in the result of this concurrence of\nagents? Nothing, except juxtaposition in space, and the relation which\nthey preserve by the equal velocity of the motion. But the motion of\nthe vertex H is not the motion of the vertex A, as is evident if we\nconsider that the vertex A may be cut off from the cube, and remain\nat rest without discontinuing or altering the motion of the vertex\nH; therefore, the two motions are things absolutely distinct. It is\nevident that the same holds true with respect to the other points;\ntherefore the unity of the composite motion is purely factitious; what\nthere is, in reality, is a multiplicity of substances, and of motions,\nwithout any other than a purely extrinsical connection, the relation of\npositions in space.\n\nLet us change the vertices into representations, and see what will\nbe the result. Do they exist without any other connection than their\nco-existence? Then they do not form a thought, but only a collection\nof phenomena which may be considered as a _union_ of things, but not\na thought; in that case the sum of all the representations will be\nsimilar to the sum of the motions; but it will produce no result in\nrelation to the object which we are now examining. If we give these\nrepresentations a point of union, that is, the relation under which\nthey are perceived, we shall have a thought; but what has this act,\nwhich is _one_ and most simple, in common with, the totality of a\nnumber of points in motion?\n\n86. If Kant had wished to present a more seductive example, he ought\nto have made use of a theory in mechanics, the application of which\nto the present case presents, if not more difficulty, at least a more\ndeceitful appearance; I mean the resultant of a system of forces and\ntheir point of application.\n\nWhen several forces act upon a line, a plane, or a solid, they produce\nan effect equal to that one force alone, which is called the resultant:\nthis force has a determinate direction and a point of application, as\nthough it were simple or had not emanated from others; why cannot this\nbe applied to thought? Why may not a thing, although it is simple,\nbe the product of the concurrence of various agents? This example\nis more specious, because it presents the result of the composition\nconcentrated in a point, but if we examine it well, we shall find that\nit proves nothing against us.\n\nThe disparity is this: thought is a simple act in itself, whilst the\nresultant of the forces is so only in its relation to the effect\nexperienced, which is all that comes under our calculation. If two\nforces are applied at the two extremities of an inflexible right line\nthe effect will be the same as though we applied one force equal to\nthe sum of them both at one point of the line, at a distance from\neither extremity inversely proportioned to the value of the first\nforces. But the unity of this effect depends on the cohesion of the\nparts, which, not permitting isolated motions, must make the force\nact on a single point; but the component forces do not cease to be\ndistinct and separate, so that at the moment the cohesion should\ncease, the respective parts would each feel the action of the force\ncorresponding to it, and move in the direction and with the velocity\nwhich the force impresses on them. If, while the cohesion lasts, it\nwere possible to give each of the component forces the consciousness of\nits action, there would be two consciousnesses really distinct, which\ncould never form one common consciousness, and could only be united in\nthe production of an effect. If the point of their application should\nhave the consciousness of the action which it experiences, it might\nhave a consciousness similar to that of the action of one force, equal\nto the sum of the components, if it did not know the manner in which\ntheir action is transmitted to it; but from the moment that it becomes\nconscious of their respective action, it would know that the result is\nowing to the impossibility of each of them producing its effect in an\nisolated manner. If, therefore, we compare the thinking subject to this\npoint of application of the forces, we must attribute to this subject\nthe consciousness of the origin of the representations which concur in\nthe production of the whole effect.\n\nPerhaps it may be said that by the very analysis of the example,\nwe have prepared the way for the triumph of the adversaries of the\nsimplicity of the soul; because after arbitrary suppositions we\nhave at last come to a simple effect inherent in a simple thing,\nand produced by the concurrence of various agents; but if we look\ncloser to it, we shall find that this pretended triumph was never\nfarther from being realized than it is in the last result to which we\nare led by the analysis of the forces. For, in order to arrive at a\nsimple result produced by the concurrence of various forces, we also\nrequire a simple point in which this result is concentrated. Then, and\nprecisely because we have arrived at this simplicity, we can abstract\nthe component forces, and consider the result as a simple effect,\nproduced by a simple force, and inherent in a simple subject, which\nis the indivisible point, to which we consider the force as applied.\nTherefore, continuing the comparison, we ought to say that, whatever\nmay be the number of the agents concurring in the production of the\nthought, this thought must reside in a simple subject, and in that\ncase the simplicity of the soul is admitted. It is true that we should\nthen suppose a certain number of agents acting on the soul in order\nto produce the thought; but the thought once produced, the soul alone\nwould be the thinking subject, just as the indivisible point is the\nonly one which unites the action of the component forces.\n\nThus all that our adversaries would have gained would be the burden of\nthe ridiculous invention of the concurrence of agents, and be forced\nnotwithstanding, to admit a simple thinking substance, which is all\nthat we proposed to demonstrate.\n\n87. Kant pretends that it is impossible to deduce from experience\nthe necessary unity of the thinking subject, as the condition of the\npossibility of all thought, because experience reveals no necessity,\nand the conception of absolute unity belongs to an order different\nfrom that which we are here considering. It is certain that experience\nalone does not reveal any necessity; for it is limited to particular,\ncontingent facts, and does not reach the universal reason of objects;\nbut this is not true of experience regarded objectively, or in relation\nto the cognition of the general reasons of things; for although\nthis cognition, considered subjectively as an individual act, is a\ncontingent fact, still inasmuch as it exists it represents a true\nnecessity in certain objects; unless we wish to renounce the certainty\nof all the sciences, mathematics included.\n\nIt is clear that in speaking of thought and the thinking subject, we\ncannot forget experience, since it is impossible to abstract the basis\nof all psychological investigations,--_I think_,--a proposition which\nexpresses a fact of consciousness, an act of internal experience; but\nwith this experience is combined the idea of unity in general, or the\nexclusion of distinction and multiplicity from the act of thought and\nfrom the thinking subject. Thus the demonstration of the simplicity\nof the soul follows in the same path as all demonstrations which\nare confined to the purely ideal order, and which consequently are\nformed of one premise which contains a necessary truth, and another\nwhich establishes a fact of experience. In the present instance, the\nnecessary premise is the very definition of unity and simplicity;\nthe other expresses the fact experienced, that is, the nature of the\nthought, as it is revealed in consciousness.\n\n88. Hence the demonstration of the simplicity of thinking beings is not\nlimited to the human mind, but extends to all the subjects in which\nthe fact of consciousness exists. When Kant says we cannot extend this\ndemonstration, because we then go out of the field of experience, we\nreply with this argument: our demonstration is founded on the idea of\nunity and the fact of consciousness; the idea of unity is general,\nand consequently is valid in all cases; the fact of consciousness\nis a thing which is found in every thinking being, since thought is\ninconceivable without a subject, which may say, _I think_; therefore,\nwe proceed legitimately in extending the demonstration of simplicity,\nunless you mean to give to the word _think_ a very different meaning\nfrom that which we all give to it, in which case we go out of the arena\nof philosophy and enter on a discussion of words.\n\n89. We must have received the idea of a thinking being from internal\nexperience: we may expand or restrict this idea, increasing or\ndecreasing its perfection; but at bottom it remains always the same,\nand we cannot conceive thought in another being without attributing\nto it something similar to what we experience in ourselves. In this\nrespect Kant is therefore right when he says that if we wish to\nrepresent to ourselves a thinking being we must put ourselves in the\nplace of the object. According to him, we require for thought the\nabsolute unity of the subject, only because without this unity it would\nbe impossible to say, _I think_; since, although the totality of the\nthought may be distributed among the various subjects, the subjective\n_me_ cannot be divided or separated, and every thought supposes this\n_me_. The proposition, I think, is the foundation on which psychology\nraises the edifice of its knowledge: Kant admits this, but I cannot\nunderstand why, admitting that this proposition is the form of the\napperception which is joined with and precedes all experience, he still\nsays that it is not experimental; as though the thought were not just\nas subject to a real experience as its form; whereas if we closely\nexamine it, we should rather say that the form is experienced than the\nthought itself, on the supposition that the latter is distinct whilst\nthe form is identical in every instance; for the form in itself is only\nthe consciousness of the unity identical in the midst of diversity.\n\n90. In conceiving this absolute unity in the _me_, we do not, as Kant\npretends, conceive a topical unity, but a real unity, if we suppose\nit to remain really the same through the variety of thought. When we\nenunciate this unity in the proposition, I think, we do not speak of\na form in the abstract, common to all perceptions, but of something\npositive which is within us, and the reality of which is indispensable\nto the possibility of thought.\n\n91. The German philosopher further says: \"This subjective condition\nof all knowledge cannot with propriety be converted into a condition\nof the possibility of a knowledge of the objects; that is, into a\nconception of thinking being in general, since we cannot represent\nthis being to ourselves without putting ourselves in its place by the\nformula of our consciousness.\" I do not believe that the psychologists\nwho have pretended that they could demonstrate the simplicity of the\nsoul, ever flattered themselves with arriving at a perfect idea of\nthinking beings, or denied that we obtain the type of this idea from\nour own experience; what they have pretended is, that reason leads them\nto infer that there is absolute unity of the subject wherever there is\na thinking being; whether its thought may belong to a higher or lower\norder than our own.\n\n92. When Kant observes that the subject in which the thought inheres is\nonly indicated in a transcendental way, without its properties being\ndiscovered, and that, therefore, we do not know the simplicity of the\nsubject itself, he declares a fact which is in some sense admissible,\nbut he deduces from it a false consequence. It is true that we only\nknow the substance of the soul by the presence of the internal sense,\nand by its relation to its acts; and consequently that the soul in\nitself abstracted from all the phenomena which we experience, is not\ngiven in immediate intuitions, and that when we arrive at this point we\nare reduced to the idea of a simple being, but this indeterminateness,\nand vagueness, in the knowledge of the substance of the soul, does not\nprevent our knowing its simplicity, if this simplicity is revealed by\nthe internal sense, and also by the nature of the phenomena by which we\nknow the thinking subject.\n\n93. Some persons may believe that the indeterminateness of the\nknowledge of the substance of the soul is a fact recently discovered\nby the German philosopher; but it is easy to show that it had\nbeen observed long before, and is laid down in a very special and\ninteresting manner in the writings of St. Thomas. This eminent\nmetaphysician proposes the question whether the intellectual soul knows\nitself by its essence, _utrum anima intellectiva seipsam cognoscat\nper suam essentiam_, and after the various remarks on intelligence,\nand the intelligibility of objects, he solves it in these remarkable\nwords: \"Our understanding does not know itself by its essence, but by\nits act; and this in two ways: in one way, in particular; inasmuch as\nSortes or Plato perceives that he has an intellectual soul, because\nhe perceives that he understands: in the second way, in general;\ninasmuch as we consider the nature of the human mind in the act of\nthe understanding. But it is true that we derive the judgment and\nefficacy of the knowledge by which we know the nature of the soul, by\nthe light of the divine truth of which our intellect participates, and\nin which are contained the reasons of all things, as was said above.\nHence, Augustine says, in the ninth book on the Trinity: We have\nintuition of the inviolable truth by which we perfectly determine,\nas far as possible, not what the mind of each man is, but what it\nshould be according to the eternal reasons. But there is a difference\nbetween these two cognitions, for, to have the first, we only need the\npresence of the mind, which is the principle of the act by which the\nmind perceives itself, and, therefore, we say that it knows itself\nby its presence; but for the second, the presence of the mind is not\nsufficient, but a careful and subtile investigation is necessary. Hence\nmany are ignorant of the nature of the soul, and many also have erred\non the nature of the soul; wherefore in the tenth book on the Trinity,\nAugustine, speaking of this investigation, says: The soul should not\ntry to see itself as something absent, but endeavor to distinguish\nitself as something present; that is, to know its difference from other\nthings, which is to know its quiddity and nature.\"[49]\n\n[49] Non ergo per essentiam suam, sed per actum suum se cognoscit\nintellectus noster, et hoc dupliciter. Uno quidem modo particulariter,\nsecundum quod Sortes, vel Plato percipit se habere animam intellectivam\nex hoc, quod percipit se intelligere. Alio modo in universali, secundum\nquod naturam mentis human\u00e6 ex actu intellectus consideramus. Sed verum\nest quod judicium, et efficacia hujus cognitionis per quam naturam\nanim\u00e6 cognoscimus, competit nobis secundum derivationem luminis\nintellectus nostri a veritate divina, in qua rationes omnium rerum\ncontinentur, sicut supra dictum est. Unde August. dicit in 9 de Trin.\nIntuemur inviolabilem veritatem, ex qua perfecte quantum possumus,\ndeffinimus, non qualis sit uniuscujusque hominis mens, sed qualis esse\nsempiternis rationibus debeat. Est autem differentia inter has duas\ncognitiones; nam ad primam cognitionem de mente habendam sufficit\nipsa mentis pr\u00e6sentia, qu\u00e6 est principium actus, ex quo meus percipit\nseipsam: et ideo dicitur se cognoscere per suam pr\u00e6sentiam. Sed ad\nsecundam cognitionem de mente habendam, non sufficit ejus pr\u00e6sentia:\nsed requiritur diligens, et subtilis inquisitio. Unde et multi naturam\nanim\u00e6 ignorant, et multi etiam circa naturam anim\u00e6 erraverunt. Propter\nquod August. dicit 10 de Trin. de tali inquisitione mentis, Non velut\nabsentem se qu\u00e6rat mens cernere; sed pr\u00e6sentem qu\u00e6rat discernere; id\nest cognoscere differentiam suam ab aliis rebus, quod est cognoscere\nquidditatem, et naturam suam. S. Thom. _Sum. Theol._ P. I. Q.,\nLXXXVII., A. 1.\n\n94. It is to be observed that St. Thomas admits two cognitions of the\nsoul by itself;--that of its presence, as we perceive it in perceiving\nour thought, _percipit se habere animam intellectivam ex hoc quod\npercipit se intelligere_; and another which we deduce from the analysis\nof the intellectual act reasoning from general considerations, and\nreflecting on the light which the eternal reasons shed upon this\nfact of experience. This is how St. Thomas explains the knowledge of\npresence or consciousness contained in the proposition, _I think_; and\nthe general knowledge which we deduce from the same intellectual act in\nits relations to the unity of the subject exercising it. That this last\ncontains something abstract and indeterminate no one denies; and when\nKant calls attention to it, he tells us nothing which the holy Doctor\nhad not already told us when he expressly affirmed that the soul knows\nitself not in its essence, but in its acts. These few laconic words\nexpress all the truth which is contained in Kant's diffuse explanation\nof the limitation of our cognition to the acts of consciousness, and\nthe absence of the intuitive knowledge of the substance of the soul,\nthe transcendental subject of the thought.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIII.\n\nIN WHAT MANNER THE IDEA OF SUBSTANCE MAY BE APPLIED TO GOD.\n\n\n95. In the idea of substance as formed from the beings around us and\nfrom the testimony of our consciousness we find the relation to changes\nwhich occur in it as their subject or recipient. But we have before\nremarked that besides this relation there is a negation of inherence\nin another as the modifications are inherent in the substance; this\nnegation implies a perfection which exempts it from the necessity of\ninherence to which the changeable and transitory beings which we call\naccidents or modifications are subject. As we are ignorant of the\nintrinsic essence of substances, we do not know what this perfection\nis; yet we cannot doubt that it exists in the very nature of the\nsubject, and is independent of the modifications which transform it.\nIf then the essence of the substance must consist in any thing, it\nmust be in this perfection of which we have a knowledge, but not an\nintuitive cognition. When therefore substance is defined in relation\nto accidents, _quod substat accidentibus_, it is rather defined by the\nmanner in which it is presented to us than by what it is in itself.\n\n96. Hence, of the two definitions usually received in the schools:\n_Ens per se subsistens_, a being subsisting by itself, and, _id quod\nsubstat accidentibus_, the subject of accidents; the first is the more\ncorrect, because it comes nearer the expression of what it is in\nitself. Although we know finite substances only inasmuch as revealed by\naccidents, and even our own mind knows itself only in its acts, reason\ntells us that in order to be known things must exist, and in order that\nour mind may find in them something permanent, it is necessary that\nthis something should be in them. Our knowledge does not produce its\nobjects; in order to be known they must exist.\n\n97. These reflections manifest the possibility of the existence of a\nsubstance not subject to accidents or change of any kind; and that\nthis substance not only does not lose the character of substance by\nbeing immutable, but possesses it in a much more perfect degree. The\nperfection of substance is not in its changes but in what is permanent\nin it, not in having a succession of modifications inherent in it,\nbut in existing in such a manner as not to need to inhere in another.\nThe substance which should possess this permanence, this perfection\nenabling it to exist by itself, and at the same time should have no\nmodification, should experience no change, would be infinitely superior\nto all other substances. This substance is God.\n\n98. Now it is easy to answer the question whether when applied to God\nthe idea of substance is understood in the same sense as when applied\nto creatures; or, to speak in the terms of the schools, whether it is\ntaken univocally or analogously.\n\n99. In the idea of every substance is contained the idea of being; what\ndoes not exist cannot be a substance. Inasmuch as we conceive being as\na reality, as opposed to nothingness, the idea of being belongs both\nto God and to creatures: God is, that is to say, God is a real thing,\nnot nothing. But if from this general idea, such as we conceive it in\nopposition to nothingness, we pass to its realization in objects, to\nthe manner of its application, so to speak, we find all the difference\nthat there is between the contingent and the necessary, the finite and\nthe infinite. Although we do not intuitively see the infinite being,\nnor the essence of finite beings, still we have evident knowledge that\nthe word _being_ applied to the infinite means something very different\nfrom what it does when applied to the finite.\n\n100. In the idea of substance is also contained the idea of something\npermanent; this permanence belongs also to God: the infinite being is\nessentially permanent.\n\n101. In the substances around us we find this permanence combined\nwith the succession of the modifications which affect them; these\nchanges are impossible in God. The relation to modifications is a\ncharacteristic quality of finite substances.\n\n102. Substances are not inherent in others as modifications are\ninherent in them; this non-inherence also belongs to the divine\nsubstance.\n\n103. Substances must contain something which exempts them from the\nnecessity of inherence and raises them above the things which so\nrapidly succeed each other, and in their existence always need another\nto sustain them; this perfection is found in the divine substance which\nis being essentially, the fountain of perfection.\n\n104. It follows from this analysis that all the perfection contained in\nthe idea of substance may be applied to the infinite being; and that\nall that is contained in this idea which cannot be applied to this\nbeing is what implies negation or imperfection.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIV.\n\nAN IMPORTANT REMARK, AND SUMMARY.\n\n\n105. When we say, that a substance is a being subsisting by itself,\nwe do not mean that it is a being which has absolutely no need of\nanother for its existence. To confound these two things would produce\na frightful confusion of ideas, and is itself produced by a not less\nfrightful confusion of the relation of cause and effect with the\nrelation of substance and accidents.\n\n106. The relation of cause and effect consists in the cause giving\nthe effect its being; the relation of substance and accident consists\nin the substance serving as subject to the accident. So great is the\ndifference between these two relations that not only does reason\nshow them to be distinct, but at every moment experience presents\nthem as separate. Our soul is the subject of many accidents in the\nproduction of which it has no part, but on the contrary opposed to\ntheir production as far as it is able. Such are all painful sensations,\nall disagreeable impressions, all troublesome thoughts which present\nthemselves in spite of us, and when we wish to think of something else.\nIn these cases the soul is the subject, and not the cause: it has the\nrelation of substance to things of which it is not the cause, and with\nrespect to which it is entirely passive. If I am not greatly mistaken,\nthis example is conclusive, and marks the line which divides causality\nfrom substance, effect from accident.\n\n107. To be subsistent by itself expresses an exclusion; if this\nexclusion is referred to causality, to be subsistent by itself is to be\nnot caused; if referred to inherence, it means to be not inherent in\nanother as accidents are in their substance. When substance is defined\na being subsistent in itself, it is understood in the second sense, not\nin the first, and this distinction is sufficient to overthrow the whole\nsystem of Spinoza, and all the pantheists, whatever be the aspect under\nwhich they present their error.\n\n108. In order to enter on the question of pantheism free from all\nconfusion, let us sum up in a few words all that reason and experience\nteach concerning substance.\n\nI. Within us there is a being, one, simple, identical, permanent, the\nsubject of the phenomena which we experience.\n\nII. Outside of us there are objects which preserve something constant\nthrough the variety of this phenomena.\n\nIII. In the idea of substance are contained the ideas of permanence and\nnon-inherence in another as a modification.\n\nIV. The relation of a subject to its modifications, is found in all\nfinite substances.\n\nV. Relation to modifications is not inseparable from the ideas of\nbeing, permanence, and non-inherence in another.\n\nVI. An immutable substance implies no contradiction.\n\nVII. To subsist by itself is not the same as to be independent of\nall other beings. The relation of cause and effect ought not to be\nconfounded with the relation of substance and accident.\n\nVIII. _Non-inherence_ in another is characteristic of substance; but\nthis negative idea must be founded on something positive; on the\n_force_ to subsist by itself without the necessity of adhering to\nanother.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XV.\n\nPANTHEISM EXAMINED IN THE ORDER OF IDEAS.\n\n\n109. The idea of substance and all its applications, as well to the\nexternal as to the internal world, are far from leading us to infer the\nexistence of a _single_ substance; on the contrary, reason according\nwith experience forces us to acknowledge a _multitude_ of substances.\nWhy should we admit only one substance? This is one of the most\nimportant questions of philosophy, and from the most ancient times has\ngiven occasion to the most serious errors; it consequently deserves a\ncareful investigation.\n\n110. Those who admit only one substance must found their opinion either\non the idea of substance or on experience; our mind can have no other\nrecourse than to its primitive ideas, or the teachings of experience.\nLet us begin with the _a priori_ method or that which is founded on the\nidea.\n\n111. What do you understand by substance? we ask. If by substance you\nunderstand a being subsisting by itself, and by this subsistence you\nmean that it has no need of another, and never had any need of another\nin order to exist, then you are speaking of a being that is _not\ncaused_, of a necessary being which has in itself the sufficient and\nnecessary reason of its existence. If you say this being is only one,\nor that there is no other of its kind, we agree with you, only we tell\nyou that you take the name of substance in an improper sense. But at\nbottom the difference would be only in the name; and in order to come\nto a mutual understanding it is only necessary for us to know that\nby substance you understand an absolutely necessary, and consequently\nabsolutely independent being. But if you assert that this being is the\nonly one in the sense that there is nothing, and can be nothing beside\nit, then your assertion is gratuitous and we ask for joint proof.\n\nWhy should the necessary being exclude the possibility of other beings?\nIs it not more reasonable to conclude that it contains the reason of\ntheir possibility and existence? The being which has in itself the\nnecessity of existing, must possess activity, and the external term of\nthis activity is production. Why may not other beings be the result of\nthis production? Inasmuch as produced they would be distinct from the\nbeing producing them.\n\n112. Without going beyond our ideas we find contingency and\nmultiplicity. Experience reveals a continual succession of forms within\nus; these appearances are something; they cannot be a pure nothing,\nfor they must be something, though only appearances. In them we behold\na continual transition from not-being to being, and from being to\nnot-being; therefore there is a production of something which is not\nnecessary, since it is, and ceases to be; therefore there is something\nbesides the being which is supposed the only one. This argument is\nfounded on the purely internal phenomena, and, therefore, is valid even\nagainst the idealists, against those who take from the external world\nall reality, and reduce it to mere appearances, to simple phenomena of\nour mind. These appearances exist at least as appearances; they are\nthen something, they are contingent, they are not therefore necessary\nbeing. Therefore besides this being there is something which is not it;\ntherefore the system which asserts the existence of only one being is\nnot sustainable.\n\nThe idea of a being absolutely independent by reason of its absolute\nnecessity does not exclude the existence of contingent beings; it only\nshows that the necessary being is the only necessary being, not that it\nis the only being.\n\n113. Neither does it follow from the idea of necessary being that\nthere cannot be contingent beings, _caused_, and yet subsisting by\nthemselves in the sense that they are not inherent as modifications in\nothers. Not to be caused and not to be inherent are two very distinct\nthings; the first implies the second, but the second does not imply\nthe first. Every being not caused must be free from inherence, because\nif it is not caused it is necessary, and contains in itself all that\nis necessary in order not to inhere in another. If necessary, it must\nbe absolutely independent of all others, which it would not be if it\nneeded them as a modification needs a substance. But not every thing\nwhich is not inherent is necessarily not caused, for its cause may have\nmade it such that it does not need to be inherent as a modification in\nanother. It would then depend on another as an effect on its cause, but\nnot as an accident on its substance; there would be between them the\nrelation of causality, but not that of substance; things which we have\nshown in the last chapter to be very distinct.\n\n114. Never will the pantheists be able to prove that because a thing is\nnot a modification it must be not caused; and this is precisely what\nthey must prove in order to carry their system through in triumph. Once\nprove that whatever subsists in itself is not caused, and you will\nhave proved whatever subsists in itself to be necessary. And as the\nnecessary being must be only one, you will have proved that there is\nonly one substance.\n\n115. The secret of pantheism is the confounding of non-inherence with\nabsolute independence; and the means of overthrowing its arguments\nis always to distinguish these two things. All that is not caused is\nsubstance, but not all that is substance is uncaused. All that is\nnot caused is necessary and therefore not inherent, but not every\nsubstance is necessary. Finite substance is not inherent in another\nbeing, but it is caused by another being. It cannot exist without this\nother being, it is true; but this dependence is not the dependence of a\nmodification on its substance, but that of an effect on its cause.\n\nThe cause gives being to the effect; the substance sustains the\naccident: the cause is not modified by the effect; the substance is\nmodified by the accident. These ideas are clear and distinct; by them\npantheism is destroyed in all its transformations, and forced, as old\nProteus was by Menelaus, to resume its primitive form. Atheism is its\nnature, and should be its name. Many of the erroneous systems which\ndisturb the ideal world are founded on an equivocation; to oppose\nthem with success, we must fix ourselves on the point which clears\nup their equivocation, and not go out of it. The equivocation will\nassume different forms, but we must not suffer ourselves to be deceived\nor confounded by it; we must always return to the same distinction\nand make that the battle-ground. The passage of the immortal poet\nin the place just alluded to, might be taken as a fable giving an\nexcellent method of defeating sophisms: \"Collect all your strength\nand courage,\" says the goddess Idothea to Menelaus, \"and, throwing\nyourself upon him, hold him tightly despite all his efforts; for he\nwill metamorphose himself in a thousand ways in order to escape from\nyou: he will take the semblance of all the most savage animals. He\nwill also change himself into water; he will become fire: but let none\nof these frightful forms terrify you, or force you to let him go; on\nthe contrary, hold him and strain him the more tightly. But as soon as\nhe returns to _the first form_ in which, he was, ... then use no more\nviolence, but let him go.[50]\" So it is with pantheism, it will speak\nof matter, of mind, of the reality of phenomenal, of the _me_, of the\n_not-me_, of subsistence and non-subsistence, of the necessary and the\ncontingent; but do not allow it to go beyond the fundamental ideas,\nlead it to them; it will at last return to its first form, and when it\nhas returned to this, then let it go, showing it to the world as it\nis, saying: \"See it in its horrible deformity; it has always been what\nit is now; notwithstanding all its transformations, it is nothing but\natheism.\"\n\n[50] Odyss., Bk. IV.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVI.\n\nPANTHEISM EXAMINED IN THE ORDER OF EXTERNAL FACTS.\n\n\n116. If pantheism is unsustainable in the region of ideas, it is not\nless so in the field of experience. The latter, far from leading us to\nthe exclusive unity of substance, shows us on all sides multiplicity.\n\n117. There is unity where there is no division, when in the thing that\nis one no others can be distinguished, when it admits no negative\njudgment. Nothing of all this is observed in the external world; but a\nconstant experience presents directly the contrary.\n\n118. In the external world division is visible, palpable; there is\nno other unity than that of order, of direction to an end; besides\nthis, all is multiplicity. The only medium by which we are placed\nin communication with the external world are the senses, and they\nencounter multiplicity on every side--sensations distinct in number,\ndiverse in species, graduated in a thousand different ways, distributed\ninto infinite groups, which, although they are connected in this or\nthat point, may be divided and are divided in a thousand others.\n\n119. Multiplicity is as truly revealed by the testimony of the senses\nas the very existence of objects. If we deny the competency of their\ntestimony in the first, we must deny it also in the second. They not\nonly tell us that such a body exists, but that it is not another body.\nWe know nothing with more certainty than that an external object\ncorresponds to a sensation, that the objects of two distinct sensations\nare distinct.\n\nTo say that the senses are not good judges in this matter, because they\nare limited to mere sensation, and consequently cannot judge of the\nobjects of the sensation, is to appeal to idealism, for by the same\nreason we may assert that the senses, limited to mere sensation, cannot\ngive us certainty of the existence of their respective objects.\n\n120. To establish unity outside of ourselves is to annihilate the\ncorporeal world. The idea of extension contradicts unity. In that which\nis extended some parts are not the others. This is evident, and whoever\nattempts to doubt it attacks the basis of the certainty of geometry. If\nthe world is something real, it is extended; if it is not extended, we\ncannot be certain that it is any thing real. We have the same certainty\nof its extension as of its existence. Its very existence is manifested\nby the extension presented to our senses. If, then, this extension does\nnot exist, sensations are a mere internal phenomenon, a pure illusion,\nin so far as we attribute to them a correspondence to the exterior.\n\n121. This argument seems to me one of the most conclusive than can\nbe brought against Spinosa, who, together with the oneness of the\nsubstance admits extension, as one of its attributes. The extended\nis essentially multiplex; it always involves the distinction between\nits parts; we can always say of it: \"The part A is not the part B.\"\nPantheism cannot escape this argument except by taking refuge in\npure idealism; and in this respect Fichte and Hegel are more logical\nthan most persons give them credit for being. In order to maintain\nthe exclusive oneness of substance, it is necessary to convert the\nexternal world into mere phenomena, whose only reality consists in\ntheir being thus presented to us. This is to absorb the world in the\n_me_, and concentrate the reality in the idea; but this absorption,\nthis concentration, notwithstanding its obscurity, is a necessary and\nlogical consequence of the principle established. There is absurdity,\nbut there is at least the consequence of the absurdity.\n\n122. Those who call Spinosa the disciple of Descartes, have not\nobserved that there is a necessary contradiction between the two\nsystems. The argument founded on extension, which I have just\npresented, although conclusive under every hypothesis, is still more\nso against those who admit with Descartes, that the essence of bodies\nconsists in extension. In that case, the various parts of extension\nare essentially distinct, since each part constitutes an essence. The\nessential and substantial multiplicity of bodies would be in proportion\nto the multiplicity of extension.\n\n123. If you maintain that extension is not the essence of bodies, but\nan attribute or modification of bodies, whether a determination founded\non their essence or an accidental determination, and pretend that\nthis modification or attribute may belong to the only substance, we\nask you whether this substance in itself abstracted from extension is\nsimple or composite. If composite, it implies multiplicity, and Spinosa\ncoincides with the common opinion of a corporeal world, composed of\nmany parts, one of which will have no more right than another to be\nthe true substance. For then there would not be a single substance,\nbut one composed of many; and the corporeal universe cannot be called\na substance except in the sense in which it is commonly called one,\nthat is, not taking the oneness in a strict sense, but inasmuch as all\nits parts are connected together, and disposed in a certain order to\nconspire to the same end. If the substance, the subject of extension is\nsimple, the result will be a simple substance determined or modified\nby extension, a simple extended substance, which is a contradiction.\nA thing cannot be conceived as a modification of another unless it\nis modified by it; this is what the words express. A modification\nmodifies, giving to the thing modified the form of the modification,\napplying itself to the thing modified. Extension cannot modify except\nby making the thing modified extended; and to be extended, and to\nhave extension, are absolutely identical expressions. Therefore it\nis repugnant for a simple substance to have extension for one of its\nmodifications; therefore Spinosa's system is absurd.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVII.\n\nPANTHEISM EXAMINED IN THE ORDER OF INTERNAL FACTS.\n\n\n124. The multiplicity of substances is no less attested by the\nconsciousness of ourselves, or of the internal world. Our first\nreflex act reveals within us something which is one, indivisible, and\nremaining always the same through all the transformations of our being.\nThis unity of the _me_ is indispensable to the connection of all the\nphenomena in a point; without it all memory, all combination, and all\nconsciousness are impossible; our own being disappears, and there\nremains only a series of unconnected phenomena. But this unity, which\nwe must take as an internal fact which consciousness places beyond\nall doubt, and the conviction of which it is impossible for us to\nwithstand,--this unity produces the knowledge of multiplicity. There is\nsomething which affects us and which is not ourselves. Our will, our\nactivity, is impotent to resist other activities which act upon us;\nthere is, then, something which is not ourselves, which is independent\nof us. There is something which is not a modification of ourselves,\nbecause very often it does not affect us, does not modify us. This\nsomething is a reality, for nothing cannot affect any thing. It is not\ninherent in us; it is, then, in itself, or in something which is not\nourselves. There is, therefore, a substance which is not our substance;\nand the _me_ and the _not-me_ which have made so much noise in German\nphilosophy, far from leading to the unity of the substance, lead to\nmultiplicity; and destroy pantheism entrenched behind idealism.\n\n125. At the very first we meet at least with duality, the _me_ and the\n_not-me_; but carrying our observations a little farther, we find a\nstriking multiplicity.\n\nOur mind is not alone: the consciousness of what we daily experience\nproves our communication with other minds, which, like our own, have\nthe consciousness of themselves--a sphere of activity of their own,\nand, like our own mind, are subjected to other activities without their\nwill, and sometimes even against it. The _me_ and the _not-me_ existing\nfor our consciousness, exists also for theirs; what in us alone was\nduality becomes a wonderful multiplicity by means of the repetition of\nthe same fact which we have experienced in ourselves.\n\n126. To attribute this variety of consciousnesses to the same being,\nto take them as modifications of the same substance, as revelations\nof itself to its own eyes, is a gratuitous assertion; and not only\ngratuitous but absurd.\n\nWith full confidence I can defy the greatest philosopher of the world\nto assign any reason, I do not say satisfactory, but even a specious\nreason, proving that two individual consciousnesses belong to a common\nconsciousness, or are consciousnesses of the same being.\n\n127. In the first place, this doctrine is in contradiction to common\nsense, and is rejected with irresistible force by the internal sense\nof every man. The sentiment of our existence is always accompanied by\nthe sentiment of our distinction from other beings like us. We are not\nonly certain that we exist, but that we are distinct from others; and\nif in any thing the sentiment of this distinction is profoundly marked,\nit is in what regards the phenomena of our consciousness. Never at any\ntime, in any country or phase of society, could men be persuaded that\nthe consciousness of all their acts and impressions belonged to one and\nthe same being in which individual consciousnesses were united. It is a\nbad philosophy which begins by struggling against humanity, and placing\nitself in open contradiction to an irresistible sentiment of nature.\n\n128. The very idea of consciousness excludes this monstrous absurdity,\nwhich attempts to transform individual consciousnesses into\nmodifications of one universal consciousness. Consciousness, that is,\nthe internal sentiment of what a being experiences, is essentially\nindividual, it is, so to speak, incommunicable to every other. To\nothers we communicate the knowledge of our consciousness, but not\nour consciousness itself. It is an intuition or a sentiment which is\ncompleted in the innermost recesses of our being, in that which is most\nour own. What, then, would that consciousness be which does not belong\nto us as individuals, which is not our own which is nothing of what we\nbelieve it to be, but only a property of an unknown being,--a being of\nwhich we have no knowledge, and of which we are only a phenomenon, a\npassing modification? Where would be the unity of consciousness in the\nmidst of such diversity, opposition, and mutual exclusion? This being,\nmodified by so many consciousnesses, would have no consciousness of its\nown, for it could give itself no account of what it experiences.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVIII.\n\nFICHTE'S PANTHEISTIC SYSTEM.\n\n\n129. I am going to fulfil a promise made in the beginning of this\nwork,[51] to explain and refute the system of Fichte. We have seen\nthe cabalistic forms employed by the German philosopher to obtain a\nsimple result, which amounted to neither more nor less than Descartes'\nprinciple, \"I think, therefore, I am.\" The reader could never imagine\nthat any one should attempt to found pantheism on this fact of\nconsciousness, and that the human mind, because it finds itself, should\nhave the arrogance to maintain that nothing exists beside itself,\nthat whatever there is, proceeds from itself, and what is still more\nextraordinary, that it is itself produced by itself. In order to\nbelieve that such things have been written we have to see them, and\ntherefore in explaining Fichte's system, I shall copy his own words.\n\n[51] See Bk. I., Chap. VII.\n\nThus, although he may suffer a little from the foreign garb, and the\nreader may be fatigued with deciphering enigmas, he will have an idea\nof the matter and of the form of the system, which he could not have,\nif we should take from the philosopher his extravagant originality,\nwhich, however, relates to the form, rather than to the substance.\n\n130. \"This act, namely X = I am, is founded on no higher principle.\"[52]\n\n[52] _Grundlage der gesammten Wissensehaftslehre._ Erst. Th. 1. \u00a7 6. b.\n\nThis is true to a certain extent, inasmuch as it affirms that in the\nseries of the facts of consciousness, we come to our own existence\nas the last limit, and can go no farther. The reflex act, by which\nwe perceive our existence, is expressed by the proposition, _I am_,\nor, _I exist_; but this proposition by itself alone, tells us nothing\nas to the nature of the _me_, and is very far from proving our\nabsolute independence. On the contrary, from the moment that we begin\nto reflect, internal facts are presented to us which incline us to\nbelieve that our being is dependent on another; and in proportion as\nwe continue to reflect, we acquire a deep conviction of this truth,\narising from a rigorous demonstration.\n\nIn no way can we affirm that the act, _I am_, does not depend on any\nhigher principle, if we mean by that, that the act does not spring\nfrom any _principle of action_, and that by itself alone, it produces\nexistence. Besides plainly contradicting common sense, this assertion\nis without any proof, and is also opposed to the most fundamental\nnotions of sound philosophy.\n\n131. Fichte thinks differently, and without knowing why, he deduces\nfrom the above propositions these consequences: \"Therefore it (the\nact, X = _I am_) is _supposed absolutely_, and _founded on itself_,\nas the principle _of a certain_ (and, as will be seen by the whole\n_Doctrine of Science_, _of every_) act of the human mind, consequently,\nalso of its pure character,--the pure character of activity in itself,\nabstracted from its particular empirical conditions.\" It is no great\ndiscovery that the character of _act_ is _activity_; but this character\nis not _pure_, since in us no act is pure activity, but it is always a\nparticular exercise of activity.\n\n\"Consequently,\" he continues, \"the supposition of the _me_ by itself is\nits pure activity. The _me supposes itself_, and it _is_, in virtue of\nthis mere supposition by itself; and on the other hand, the _me is_ and\nit _supposes_ its being, by virtue of its mere being. It is at the same\ntime the acting, and the product of the act; the active, and that which\nis brought about by the activity; act and fact are one and precisely\nthe same thing; and, therefore, _I am_ is the expression of an act, and\nalso of the only one possible, as must be seen from the whole _Doctrine\nof Science_.\"\n\nHe that can, may understand what is the meaning of a being which is at\nthe same time producing and produced, principle and term of the same\naction, cause and effect of the same thing. He that can, may understand\nthe meaning of existing in virtue of a mere action, and exercising this\naction in virtue of existence. If these be not contradictions, I know\nnot what is. In God, who is infinite being, essence, existence, and\naction are identical; but we cannot say that the action _produces_ his\nbeing, that he _supposes_ himself by his action; we say that he exists\nnecessarily, and that it is therefore impossible that he should have\nbeen produced, that he should have passed from not-being to being.\n\n132. There occurs to me here a rational explanation of Fichte's\nlanguage, an explanation which even if admissible would not excuse the\nphilosopher for expressing very simple things in contradictory terms.\nHowever, it is this. The soul is an activity; its essence consists in\nthought, by which it is manifested to its own eyes, and finds itself\nin the act of consciousness. In this sense we may say that the soul\nsupposes itself, that is, knows itself, takes itself as subject of a\nproposition to which it applies the predicate of existence. The soul is\nthe principle of its act of consciousness; and thus it is productive;\nit is also presented in the act of consciousness as object, hence it\nmay also be said, though inexactly, that in the ideal order it is\nproduced; in this way it is the principle and the term of the action,\nbut under different respects. This explanation, whether more or less\nfounded, is at least reasonable and even intelligible, and the basis on\nwhich it rests, that the essence of the soul consists in thought, has\nthe name of Descartes in its favor. Thus although we do not defend the\nwords of Fichte, we might at least defend his ideas. But unfortunately,\nthe philosopher has taken good care to prevent even this; his words\ncould not have been more opposed to it.\n\n\"We now consider once more,\" he says, \"the proposition: _me is me_.\n\n\"The _me_ is supposed absolutely. If it is admitted that the _me_ which\nin the above proposition stands in the place of the formal subject is\nthe _me supposed absolutely_; and that in the place of the predicate\nmeans the _existing me_; it is expressed in the judgment which is\nabsolutely valid, that both are completely one, or supposed absolutely;\nthat the _me_ is, _because_ it has supposed itself.\"\n\nEvery judgment implies identity of the predicate and the subject; but\nin the proposition: _me_ is _me_, the identity is not only implied but\nexplicitly asserted; for which reason, the proposition belongs to the\nclass of what are termed identical propositions, because its predicate\nexplains nothing concerning the idea of the subject, but only repeats\nit. Whence then does Fichte deduce that the _me_ exists because it has\nsupposed itself? So far we have only the _me_ saying: _me is me_; it\naffirms itself and thus _supposes_ itself as subject and predicate of\na proposition: but it is clearer than day-light that to _suppose by\naffirming_ is altogether different from _supposing by producing_: on\nthe contrary, common sense and reason alike teach that the existence of\nthe thing affirmed is necessary to the legitimacy of the affirmation.\nTo confound these two ideas, to consider it the same thing to _affirm_\nas to _suppose by producing_, is an inconceivable absurdity.[53]\n\n[53] Here, as elsewhere, in the examination of Fichte's system, I\nhave translated the German word _setzen_ and the Spanish _poner_ by\nthe verb _to suppose_. Had I known any better word I should have used\nit, but I think this sufficiently explains the philosopher's meaning.\nI have also found the French word _poser_ which exactly corresponds\nto it, and which M. Cousin uses in his sketch of Fichte's system,\ntranslated _suppose_ by Mr. Ripley, in the _Specimens of Foreign\nLiterature_.--TRANSLATOR.\n\n133. Explaining this in a note, Fichte adds what follows: \"It is also\ncertainly so according to the logical form of every proposition. In the\nproposition A = A, the first A is that which is supposed in the _me_\neither absolutely as the _me_ itself, or on any other ground as every\ndetermined _not-me_. In this case the _me_ represents the absolute\nsubject, and hence the first A is called the subject. The second A\ndenotes what the _me_, which takes itself as the object of reflection,\nfinds as _supposed_ in itself because it has first supposed it in\nitself. The judging _me_ predicates something, not properly of A, but\nof itself, namely, that it finds an A in itself; and hence the second A\nis called the predicate. So in the proposition: A = B, A denotes that\nwhich is supposed now; B that which is found already supposed. _It_\nrepresents the transition of the _me_ from the act of supposing to the\nreflection on that which is supposed.\"\n\nWhat does Fichte mean by this comparison of ideas and of language? Does\nhe mean that in this proposition the _me_ is subject and predicate\naccording to the different aspects under which it is considered? Does\nhe mean that the _me_, in so far as it occupies the place of subject,\nexpresses simply existence, and that as predicate it is presented as\nan object of reflection? What does he mean by the word _suppose_? If he\nmeans by it to produce, how is it possible for a thing which is not to\nproduce itself? If he means by it the manifestation of itself, so that\nthe object manifested may serve as the logical term of a proposition,\nwhy does he tell us that the _me_ exists because it supposes itself?\nBut let us follow the German philosopher in his wandering deductions.\n\n134. \"The _me_ in the first acceptation and that in the second must\nbe absolutely the same. We can therefore invert the above proposition\nand say: the _me_ supposes itself, absolutely _because_ it is. It\n_supposes_ itself by its mere being, and _is_ by its mere supposition.\"\n\nWithout defining the sense of the word _suppose_, without saying any\nthing more than what all the world knows; that the _me_ is the _me_; he\ninfers that the _me_ exists because it supposes itself, and supposes\nitself because it exists: he identifies existence with supposition\nwithout even noticing that at least some preliminary remarks were\nnecessary before placing himself in direct opposition with common sense\nand the doctrines of all philosophers, including Descartes, who make\nexistence necessary for action, and regard it as a contradiction for a\nthing to be active without existing. Leibnitz thought that there was\nnothing and could be nothing without a sufficient reason; but thanks\nto the author of the _Doctrine of Science_, we may henceforth people\nthe world at pleasure with finite or infinite beings, and if asked\nwhence they came, we may answer that they have been supposed; if we\nare further asked why they have been supposed, we may answer; because\nthey exist; and if still again asked why they exist, we may say,\nbecause they have been supposed; thus we may pass from supposition to\nexistence, and from existence to supposition, without any danger of\nrefutation.\n\n135. Although this philosophy is any thing but clear, it seems to have\nsatisfied its author, who goes on with admirable gravity to say: \"Thus,\nthen, it is _perfectly clear_ in what sense we here use the word _me_,\nand we are led to a determinate explanation of the _me_ as absolute\nsubject. _Every thing whose being (existence) consists solely in its\nsupposing itself as being_, is the _me_, as absolute subject. So far\nas it _supposes_ itself, it _is_; and so far as it _is_, it _supposes_\nitself; and the _me_ is therefore absolute and necessary for the _me_.\nThat which is not for itself is no _me_.\" Ideal pantheism could not be\nestablished more explicitly, and at the same time more gratuitously;\none is astonished to find one's self seriously occupied with such\nextravagances. They have made a noise, because they have not been\nknown; they ought therefore to be presented to the reader as they are,\neven at the risk of fatiguing him.\n\n136. Fichte tries to make his ideas clearer, but we may be always sure\nthat each explanation will add to their obscurity. Let us permit him to\ncontinue:\n\n\"Explanation! One often hears the question asked, _what_ was I before\nI came to the consciousness of myself? The natural answer to this is:\n_I_ was nothing at all; for I was not the _me_. The _me_ is only in\nso far as it is conscious of itself. The possibility of this question\nis founded on a confusion of the _me_ as _subject_, and the _me_ as\n_object_ of the reflection of the absolute subject, and is entirely\ninadmissible. The _me_ represents itself, takes itself so far under the\nform of the representation, and is now for the first time _something_,\nan object; consciousness receives under this form a substratum which\n_is_, and although without actual consciousness, is here thought\ncorporeally. Such a case is considered, and it is asked: what was then\nthe _me_; that is, what is the substratum of consciousness? But even\nthen we think the _absolute subject_ as that which has intuition of\nthis substratum, _together with it_, although we do not take note of\nit; we also, without taking note of it, at the same time think that\nwhich we pretended to abstract, and thus fall into a contradiction. We\ncan think absolutely nothing without at the same time thinking the _me_\nas conscious of of itself; we can never abstract our own consciousness:\nhence all questions of this kind are unanswerable; for they would be,\nif well understood, unaskable.\"\n\nThat the _me_ did not exist as the object of its reflection before\nit had consciousness of itself, is an evident truth; before thinking\nitself, it does not think itself; who ever doubted it? But the\ndifficulty is, whether the _me_ is any thing, independently of its\nown reflections or its objectiveness in relation to itself; that is,\nwhether there is in the _me_ any thing more than the being thought\nby itself. The question is not contradictory, but it is one which\nnaturally presents itself to reason and to common sense; for reason as\nwell as common sense resist the taking as identical, that which exists,\nand that which is known; that which knows itself, and that which\nproduces itself. We are not now examining whether we have or have not\na clear idea of the _substratum_ of consciousness; but it is curious\nto hear the German philosopher remark that when we do not conceive\nthe _me_ as the object of reflection, we conceive it under a bodily\nform. This is to confound imagination with ideas, things, as I have\nelsewhere[54] shown, which are very different.\n\n[54] See Bk. IV., from Ch. I. to X.\n\n137. It follows from Fichte's doctrine that the existence of the _me_\nconsists in its supposing itself by means of consciousness; and that\nif consciousness should not exist, the _me_ would not exist. In this\ncase to be and to be known are the same thing. Although I might ask\nFichte for his proofs of so extravagant an assertion, I shall confine\nmyself to insisting on the difficulty which he proposes, and which he\nonly eludes by a confusion of ideas. What would the _me_ be, if it were\nnot conscious of itself? If to exist is to have consciousness, when\nthere is no consciousness there is no existence. Fichte answers that\nthe _me_ without consciousness is not the _me_, in which case, it does\nnot exist; but that the question rests on an impossible supposition,\nthe abstraction of consciousness. \"We can think absolutely nothing,\"\nhe says, \"without at the same time thinking the _me_ as conscious of\nitself; we can never abstract our own consciousness.\" I say again;\nthese words do not solve the difficulty; they only elude it. I pass\nover his assertion that consciousness is the same as existence: but\nit is certain that we conceive an instant in which the _me_ is not\nconscious of itself. Has this conception never been realized? Has\nthere, or has there not, been an instant in which the _me_ was not\nconscious of itself? If we admit this instant, we must admit that at\nthis instant the _me_ did not exist; therefore it never could have\nexisted, unless Fichte will concede that the _me_ depends on a superior\nbeing, and thus admit the doctrine of creation. If we do not admit this\ninstant, the _me_ has always existed, and with the consciousness of\nitself; therefore the _me_ is an eternal and immutable intelligence;\nit is God. There is no way for Fichte to escape this dilemma. There is\nno room here for the distinction between the _me_ as subject and the\n_me_ as object: we are speaking of the _me_ as having consciousness\nof itself,--that consciousness in which Fichte makes its existence\nconsist,--and we ask whether this _me_ has always existed or not; if\nthe first, the _me_ is God; if the second, you must either acknowledge\ncreation, or hold that a being which does not exist can give itself\nexistence.\n\n138. Fichte does not retreat from the first consequence, and although\nhe does not call _me_ God, he gives it all the attributes of divinity.\n\"If the _me_,\" he says, \"is only in so far as it supposes itself, it\nis only _for_ the supposing, and supposes only for being. _The me\nis for the me_,--but if it supposes itself absolutely as it is, it\nsupposes itself necessary, and is necessary, for the _me_. _I am only\nfor myself; but I am necessary for myself_--(in saying _for myself_ I\nalways suppose my being.)\n\n\"_To suppose itself_, and _to be_, are, speaking of the _me_, entirely\nthe same. The proposition: I am, because I have supposed myself, can,\ntherefore, be also expressed in this manner: _I am absolutely, because\nI am_.\n\n\"Moreover, the _me_ which supposes itself, and the _me_ which is, are\nentirely identical; they are one and the same thing. The _me_ is for\nthat _which_ it supposes itself; and it supposes itself as _that_ which\nit is. Therefore, _I am absolutely, what I am_.\n\n\"The immediate expression of the act which we have now developed would\nbe the following formula: _I am absolutely_, that is, _I am absolutely,\nbecause I am; and am absolutely, what I am; both for the me_.\n\n\"But if the enunciation of this act is intended to be placed at\nthe head of a doctrine of science, it should be expressed somewhat\nin the following manner: _The me originally supposes its own being\nabsolutely._\"[55]\n\n[55] _Grundlage der gesammten Wissenschaftslehre_, I. Theil, \u00a7 I., pp.\n97-98.\n\nThere is only one fact which is clear in all this extravagance of\nexpression; and that is, the pantheism openly professed by Fichte;\nthe deification of the _me_, and, consequently, the absorption of all\nreality in the _me_. The _me_ ceases to be a limited spirit; it is an\ninfinite reality. Fichte does not deny it: \"The me determines itself,\nthe absolute totality of reality is ascribed to the _me_. The _me_\ncan determine itself only as reality, for it is supposed absolutely as\nreality, and no negation whatever is supposed in it.[56]\n\n[56] Ib., II., Th. \u00a7 4. B., p. 129.\n\n\"But reality is supposed in the _me_. Therefore the _me_ must be\nsupposed as the _absolute totality_ of reality, (therefore as a\nquantity, which contains all quantities, and which may be a measure for\nthem all;) and this, too, originally and absolutely, if the synthesis,\nwhich we have just explained problematically, be possible, and the\ncontradiction is to be solved in a satisfactory manner. Therefore:\n\n\"The _me_ supposes absolutely, without any foundation, and under no\npossible condition, the _absolute totality of reality_, as a quantity,\nthan which, by virtue of this supposition, none greater is possible;\nand this absolute maximum of reality it supposes _in itself_. All\nthat is supposed in the _me_ is reality: and all reality that is, is\nsupposed in the _me_....\n\n * * * * *\n\n... \"The conception of reality is similar to the conception of\nactivity. All reality is supposed in the _me_, is the same as: All\nactivity is supposed in the _me_, and reversely; all in the _me_ is\nreality, is the same as: The _me_ is _only_ active; it is the _me_ only\nin so far as it is active; and in so far as it is not active, it is the\n_not-me_.\"[57]\n\n[57] Ib., D., pp. 137-8.\n\n\"Only in the understanding is there reality; it is the faculty of the\n_actual_; _in_ it the ideal first becomes real.\"[58]\n\n[58] Ib., Deduction der Vorstellung, III., pp. 233-4.\n\n\"The _me_ is only that which it supposes itself; it is infinite; that\nis, it supposes itself infinite....\n\n\"Without the infinity of the _me_,--without a productive faculty whose\ntendency is unlimited and illimitable,--it is impossible to explain the\npossibility of representation.\"\n\n139. Let us give a glance at these ravings. Psychology starts from a\nfundamental fact--the testimony of consciousness. The human mind cannot\nthink without finding itself; the starting-point of its psychological\ninvestigations is the proposition, I think; in this is found the\nidentity of which Fichte speaks--the _me_ is the _me_. All thought,\nfrom the first moment that it exists, perceives itself subject to a\nlaw; the perception of every thing involves the perception, either\nexplicit or implicit, of the identity of the thing perceived. In this\nsense, the most simple formula in which we can express the first law\nof our perception is: A is A; but this formula is as sterile as it is\nsimple; and it is impossible to conceive how any one could pretend to\nraise upon it a system of philosophy. This formula, supposing it to be\nenunciated, involves the existence of the _me_ which enunciates it.\nIt cannot be said that A is A, if there is not a being in which the\nrelation of identity is supposed. If the proposition A = A is true, it\nis necessary to suppose an A, or a being in which it exists. A purely\nideal truth, without any foundation in a real truth, is an absurdity,\nas we have elsewhere proved and explained at great length.[59]\n\n[59] See Bk. IV., Chs. XXIII., XXIV., XXV., XXVI., and XXVII.; and Bk.\nV., Chs. VII. and VIII.\n\n140. But the existence of an ideal truth, _in so far as it is\nrepresented in us_, that is to say, in so far as it is a fact of our\nconsciousness, is not necessary, but hypothetical, it exists when\nit exists; but when it exists it may not exist, or when it does not\nexist it may exist. Necessity cannot be inferred from existence:\nthe testimony of consciousness assures us of the fact; but in this\nconsciousness we find no proof that the fact is necessary, that it has\nnot depended on a higher agent; quite the contrary, the sentiment of\nour weakness, the shortness of the time to which the recollections of\nour consciousness extend, the natural and periodical interruptions of\nthem which we experience during sleep, every thing shows that the fact\nof consciousness is not necessary, and that the being which experiences\nit has but a little while ago commenced its existence, and might lose\nit again as soon as the infinite being should cease to preserve it. The\n_me_ which we perceive within us knows itself, affirms itself; the word\n_supposes_ itself has no reasonable meaning, unless it mean that the\n_me_ affirms its existence; but this knowing itself is not producing\nitself; whoever asserts such an absurdity is under obligation to prove\nit.\n\n141. In truth it requires all the gravity of Fichte to pretend to\nconnect such a collection of extravagant absurdities into science. It\nwas reserved for modern times to see a man seriously occupied with a\nsystem whose existence will, with difficulty, be believed by those\nwho read the history of the aberrations of the human mind. The system\nof Fichte is already judged by all thinking men, and there is no\nsurer means to make it forgotten than to expose it to the eyes of the\njudicious reader.\n\n142. Having established the necessary and absolute existence of the\n_me_, Fichte proposes to demonstrate that from the _me_ proceeds the\n_not-me_, that is to say; all that is not the _me_. \"But the _not-me_\ncan only be supposed in so far as a _me_, to which it is opposed, is\nsupposed in the _me_ (in the identical consciousness).\n\n\"But the _not-me_ must be supposed in the identical consciousness.\n\n\"Therefore the _me_ must also be supposed in it in so far as the\n_not-me_ is supposed in it.\"\n\n... \"If _me_ = _me_, all is supposed which is supposed in the _me_....\n\"The _me_ and the _not-me_ are both products of original acts of the\n_me_, and the consciousness itself is a product of the first original\nact of the _me_, of the supposition of the _me_ by itself.\"[60]\n\n[60] Ib., \u00a7 3., pp. 106-7.\n\nThis, then, is how according to Fichte, the _not-me_, that is to\nsay; this which we call the external world, and all that is not the\n_me_, is born of the _me_; the distinction of one thing from another\nis a pure illusion, a play of relations by which the _me_ conceives\nitself as _not-me_ in so far as it limits itself; but the _me_ and the\n_not-me_ are absolutely identical. \"The _me_ and the _not-me_ inasmuch\nas they are supposed identical and opposed by the conception of\nmutual limitation, are something in the _me_ (accidents) as divisible\nsubstances, supposed by the _me_, the absolute and illimitable subject,\nto which nothing is identical and nothing opposed. There all judgments,\nthe logical subject of which is the limitable or determinable _me_,\nor something which defines the _me_, must be limited or defined by\nsomething higher; but all judgments, the logical subject of which is\nthe absolutely illimitable _me_, cannot be determined by any thing\nhigher, because the absolute _me_ is not determined by any thing they\nare founded on, and defined absolutely by themselves.\" This is the last\nresult of Fichte's system, the _me_ converted into an absolute being,\nwhich is determined by nothing above itself, into an unlimited and\nillimitable subject, an infinite being, into God. Every thing emanates\nfrom this absolute subject. \"In so far as the _me_ supposes itself\nas infinite, its activity (that of supposing itself) is spent on the\n_me_ itself, and on nothing else than the _me_. Its whole activity is\nspent on the _me_, and this activity is the ground and the compass of\nall being. The _me_ is therefore _infinite in so far as its activity\nreturns to itself_, and consequently so far also is its activity\ninfinite as its product, the _me_, is infinite. (Infinite product,\ninfinite activity; infinite activity, infinite product; this is a\ncircle, but not a vicious one, for it is one from which reason escapes,\nfor it expresses that which is absolutely certain by itself, and for\nits own sake. Product, activity, and active are here one and the same\nthing, and we separate them only in order to express ourselves.)\nThe _pure activity_ of the _me_ alone, and _the pure me alone_ are\ninfinite. But pure activity is that which has no object, but returns to\nitself.\"\n\n\"In so far as the _me_ supposes limits, and, according to what we\nhave said, supposes itself in these limits, its activity is not spent\nimmediately on itself, but on a _not-me_ which is to be opposed to\nit.\"[61]\n\n[61] Ib., III., Th. \u00a7 5, II., p. 256.\n\nHow shall we sum up this doctrine? In the words of Fichte: \"In so far\nas the _me_ is absolute, it is _infinite_ and _unlimited_. It supposes\nall that is; and that which is not supposed, is not (_for_ it; and\n_out of_ it there is nothing). But all that it supposes, it supposes\nas _me_; and it supposes the _me_ as all that it supposes. Hence in\nthis respect the _me_ contains in itself all, that is, an infinite,\nunlimited reality.\n\n\"In so far as the _me_ opposes to itself a _not-me_, it necessarily\nsupposes _limits_, and supposes itself in these limits. It divides the\ntotality of the being supposed in general between the _me_ and the\n_not-me_; so far supposes itself necessarily as _finite_.\"[62]\n\n[62] Ib., p. 255.\n\n143. Thus Fichte in a few words destroys the reality of the external\nworld, converting it into a modification or development of the\nactivity of the _me_. Is it necessary to stop any longer to refute\nsuch an absurd doctrine, one, too, founded on no proof? I believe\nnot: especially since I have established on solid principles the\ndemonstration of the existence of an external world, and have\nexplained the origin and character of the facts of consciousness,\nwithout having recourse to such extravagant absurdities.[63]\n\n[63] See Bks. II., III., and IV.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIX.\n\nRELATIONS OF FICHTE'S SYSTEM TO THE DOCTRINES OF KANT.\n\n\n144. I have already shown[64] how Kant's system leads to Fichte's.\nWhen a dangerous principle is established, there is never wanting an\nauthor bold enough to deduce its consequences, whatever they may be.\nThe author of the _Doctrine of Science_, led astray by the doctrines\nof Kant, establishes the most extravagant pantheism that was ever\ninvented. In concluding his work, he says that he leaves the reader\nat the point where Kant takes him; he ought rather to have said that\nhe takes the reader at the point where Kant leaves him. The author\nof the _Critic of Pure Reason_, by converting space into a purely\nsubjective fact, destroys the reality of extension, and opens the door\nto those who wish to deduce all nature from the _me_; and by making\ntime a simple form of the internal sense, he causes the succession of\nphenomena in time to be considered as mere modifications of the _me_ to\nthe form of which they relate.\n\n[64] See Bk. III., Ch. XVII.\n\n145. But it is far from being necessary for us to hunt after\ndeductions; the philosopher himself, in the midst of his obscurity\nand enigmatical language, does not cease to lay down in the most\nprecise manner this monstrous doctrine. Let us hear how he speaks in\nhis transcendental Logic, where he proposes to explain the relation\nof the understanding to objects in general, and the possibility of\nknowing them _a priori_. \"The order and regularity in phenomena, that\nwhich we call nature, _is consequently our own work_; we should not\nfind it there if we had not placed it there by the nature of our mind;\nfor this natural unity must be a necessary unity, that is to say, a\ncertain unity _a priori_ of the connection of the phenomena. But how\ncould we produce a synthetic unity _a priori_, if there were not in\nthe primitive sources of our mind subjective reasons of this unity _a\npriori_, and if these subjective conditions were not at the same time\n_objectively valid_, since they are the grounds of the possibility of\nknowing in general an object in experience?\"[65] Who does not see in\nthese words the germ of Fichte's system, which deduces from the _me_\nthe _not-me_, that is to say, the world, and gives to nature no other\nvalidity than that which it has received from the _me_?\n\n[65] Kant, _Critik der reinen Vernunft, Trause. Log._\n\n146. But Kant is still more explicit, where he is explaining the nature\nand attributes of the understanding. He says: \"We have before defined\nthe understanding in different ways; we have called it a spontaneity of\nknowledge, (in opposition to the receptivity of sensibility,) a faculty\nof thought, or rather, a faculty of conceptions or judgments; these\ndefinitions, rightly explained, are but one. We may now characterize\nit as a _faculty of rules_. This character is more fruitful, and comes\nnearer to the essence of the thing: sensibility gives us forms (of\nintuition) and the understanding rules. The latter is always applied\nto the observation of phenomena in order to find in them some rule.\nThe rules, if objective, (if, consequently, necessarily united to the\nknowledge of the object,) are called laws. Although we know many laws\nby experience, still these laws are only particular determinations\nof other higher laws, the highest of which (to which all the others\nare subjected) _proceed_ a priori _from the understanding itself_,\nand are not taken from experience, but, on the contrary, they give to\nthe phenomena their validity, and therefore make experience possible.\nThe understanding, then, is not simply a faculty of making rules for\nitself, and comparing phenomena; _it is also the legislation for\nnature; that is to say, that without the understanding there would\nbe no nature_, or synthetic unity of the multiplicity of phenomena\naccording to certain rules. For the phenomena, as such, cannot exist\nout of us; on the contrary, they only exist in our sensibility; but\nthis, as the object of the knowledge in an experience, with all that\nit can contain, is only possible in the unity of the apperception.\nThe unity of the apperception is the transcendental foundation of\nthe necessary legitimacy of all the phenomena in an experience; this\nunity of the apperception in relation to the multiplicity of the\nrepresentations (in order to determine the multiplicity by starting\nfrom only one) is the rule, and the faculty of these rules is the\nunderstanding. All phenomena, then, as possible experiences, are _a\npriori_ in the understanding, and from it they derive their formal\npossibility, in the same manner that they are pure intuitions in the\nsensibility, and are only possible by it in relation to the form.\"\n\nIn the _deduction of the pure conceptions of the understanding_, Kant\nnot only pretends that the objects of our knowledge are not things in\nthemselves, but that it is impossible that they should be, because\nwe could not then have conceptions _a priori_. He adds, that the\nrepresentation of all these phenomena, consequently all objects which\nwe know, are all in the _me_, and are determinations of _my identical\nme_, which expresses the necessity of a universal unity of these\ndeterminations in only one and the same apperception.\n\n147. From these passages it clearly follows that Fichte's system, or\nthe ideal pantheism which reduces every thing to modifications of the\n_me_, accords with the principles established in the _Critic of Pure\nReason_, and is even expressly laid down, although it does not form its\nprincipal object in that work. For the sake of impartiality I cannot\ndo less than refer the reader to the seventeenth chapter of the third\nbook, where I have intimated that the German philosopher attempts to\nexplain his expressions so as to escape idealism, which he professes to\nrefute. But this he seems to me to do only by an inconsequence.\n\n148. However, my opinion of the connection of modern pantheism with the\n_Critik der reinen Vernunft_ is confirmed even by the Germans. \"From\nthese depths,\" says Rosenkranz, speaking of this work, \"the results\nof the transcendental \u00e6sthetics and logic receive a new importance in\nthe great problems of theology, cosmology, morals, and psychology,\nwhich was not even suspected by the dull sense of the greater part of\nits admirers. They know nothing of the chain which unites Fichte's\n_Doctrine of Science_, Schelling's _System of Transcendental Idealism_,\nHegel's _Phenomenology and Logic_, and Herbart's _Metaphysics_, with\nKant's _Critic_....\n\n\"I may say that the English and French in particular will understand\nnothing of the development of German philosophy since Kant, until they\nhave penetrated the _Critic of Pure Reason_, for _we Germans always\nlook to that_.... Just as we use the houses, the palaces, the churches,\nbut most of all the towers which rise over every thing to guide us in\na large city; so also in contemporary philosophy, amid the labyrinth\nof its quarrels it is impossible to take a single step with security\nunless we keep our sight fixed on Kant's _Critic_. Fichte, Schelling,\nHegel, and Herbart made this work the great centre of their operations\nfor attack or defence.\"[66]\n\n[66] Preface of the edition of Leipsic, 1838.\n\n149. I do not mean by this that the German philosophers since Kant have\nadded nothing to the _Critic of Pure Reason_: I have already observed\n(in the seventh chapter of the first book) that the cause of the\ngreater obscurity which is found in Fichte's words, proceeds from his\nhaving gone farther than Kant in his abstraction of all objectiveness\nboth external and internal, placing himself in I know not what pure\nprimitive act, from which he pretends to deduce every thing; in which\nhe differs from the author of the _Critic of Pure Reason_, whose labors\ndid not so absolutely annihilate the objectiveness of the internal\nworld, and therefore his observations are less incomprehensible, and\neven present here and there some few luminous points: I only wished to\nshow the baneful importance of Kant's works, to place those incautious\npersons on their guard, who, judging from what they have heard, are\ninclined to regard him as the great restorer of spiritualism and sound\nphilosophy, when, in reality, he is the founder of the most pernicious\nschools which the history of the human mind has known, and would be one\nof the most dangerous writers that ever existed, were it not that the\nobscurity of his ideas, increased by the obscurity of their expression,\nrenders him intolerable to the immense majority of readers, even of\nthose versed in philosophical studies.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XX.\n\nCONTRADICTION OF PANTHEISM TO THE PRIMARY FACTS OF THE HUMAN MIND.\n\n\n150. I do not know how any philosopher who has meditated on the human\nmind can incline to pantheism. The deeper we go into the _me_ from\nwhich it is pretended to deduce such an absurd system, the more we\ndiscover the contradiction in which pantheism appears in respect to the\nprimary ideas and facts of our mind. My development of this observation\nwill be brief, for it turns on questions largely examined in their\nrespective places.\n\n151. We have seen (Bk. VI., Ch. V.) that the idea of number is found\nin every understanding, and experience teaches that we employ it\nexplicitly or implicitly in almost all our words. We scarcely speak\nwithout using the plural, and this can have no meaning without the\nsupposition of the idea of number. Pantheism reduces all existence\nto an absolute unity; multiplicity either has no real existence, or\nis limited to phenomena, which, in the judgment of some followers\nof this system, contain no reality of any sort, and, in the opinion\nof all pantheists, can contain no substantial reality. According to\nthem, therefore, the idea of number either has no correspondence in\nthe reality, or it relates only to modes of being, to the various\nmodifications of the same being, and therefore does not extend to\nthe beings themselves, for in this system there is only one being.\nIf this be so, how is it that the idea of number exists in our\nunderstanding? how is it that we conceive not only many modes of being,\nbut many beings? In the system of the pantheists not only is there no\nmultiplicity of beings, but it is impossible that there should be; why,\nthen, has our understanding this radical vice which necessarily leads\nit to conceive the multiplicity of _things_, if this multiplicity is\nabsurd? why is this ideal defect confirmed by experience which also\nnecessarily leads us to believe that there are many distinct _things_?\n\n152. In the system of the pantheists our understanding is only a\nmodification, a manifestation of the only substance; but it is\nimpossible to explain this disagreement between the phenomenon and\nthe reality, this necessary error into which the phenomenon of the\nsubstance leads us in respect to the substance itself. If we are a mere\nmanifestation of the unity, why do we find the idea of multiplicity as\na primitive fact within us? Why this continual contradiction between\nthe being and its appearances? If we are all one same unit, whence do\nwe obtain the idea of number? If the phenomena of experience are only\nevolutions, so to speak, of this one unit, why do we feel ourselves\nirresistibly inclined to suppose multiplicity in the phenomena, and to\nmultiply the _things_ in which they succeed?\n\n153. The idea of distinction opposed to that of unity is also\nfundamental in our mind;[67] yet pantheism gives it no correspondence\nin the reality. If there is only being, if all is identical, there is\nnothing distinct, and the idea of distinction is a pure chimera. In\nthis system distinction not only does not exist, but it is impossible;\nconsequently the idea of distinction is absurd; therefore one of the\nprimary facts of our mind is a contradiction.\n\n[67] See Bk. V., Chs. IX. and X.\n\n154. Negative judgments form a considerable part of the wealth of\nour understanding;[68] pantheism destroys them. In this system the\nproposition: A is not B, can never be true; for, if all is identical,\none thing cannot be denied of another, there would be no distinct\nthings, there would be no _one_ or _another_; all would be one; the\nnegative judgment must be limited to the following: in reality A is the\nsame as B, there is only the appearance of distinction; B is A existing\nor _presented_ differently.\n\n[68] See Bk. V., Ch. IX.\n\n155. The idea of relation is also absurd in the pantheistic system;\nthere is no _relation_ without a term of _reference_, and there is no\nreference without distinction. According to the pantheists the subject\nreferred and the term of the reference are absolutely identical; there\nare, consequently, no true, but only apparent, relations; thus we find\nanother of the primary facts of our understanding radically absurd,\nbecause it is in contradiction with the reality, and even with the\npossibility.\n\n156. The support of all our knowledge, the principle of contradiction,\nit is impossible for the same thing to be and not to be at the same\ntime, is without meaning, and can have no real or possible application,\nif the doctrine of pantheism be admitted. When we say that it is\nimpossible for the same thing to be and not be at the same time, we\nunderstand that there is the possibility of not-being; in our mind\nthe idea of being excludes that of not-being only with respect to\nthe same thing and at the same time. If there is only one being, and\nall other being is impossible, it follows that the idea of not-being\nis absolutely contradictory, and all the propositions in which it is\nexpressed are absurd. There is in this case only one being which is\nevery thing, to this being negation of being can never be applied; this\nnegation, then, is absolutely absurd, and another idea of our mind is\nabsolutely contradictory.\n\n157. The idea of contingency is also contradictory if pantheism\nbe admitted; all that can be is, and all that does not exist is\nimpossible; therefore when we distinguish contingency from necessity\nwe contradict both the reality and the possibility. Hence there is\nanother primary illusion of our mind which presents to us as possible,\nand even existent, that which in itself is absurd.\n\n158. Neither can the ideas of finite and infinite co-exist in the\nsystem. One of them must be contradictory; if the only being is\ninfinite, there is and can be nothing finite; therefore the opposition\nbetween the finite and the infinite is a chimera of our mind, to which\nthere is nothing in reality corresponding. There is only one thing;\nit must be finite or infinite; in either case, one of these terms\nmust disappear, one of these ideas is contradictory, since it is in\nopposition to an absolute necessity.\n\n159. The system of absolute unity destroys the idea of order. In this\nidea is contained the arrangement of distinct things, distributed in\na convenient manner to conspire to an end. If there is no distinction\nthere is no order, and the distinction is impossible if there is\nabsolute unity. The idea of order is still one of the fundamental ideas\nof our mind; literary and artistic unity, and in general that of all\nsensible beauty, is the unity of order: substitute for this absolute\nunity, and you destroy all beauty of the imagination; art becomes\nabsorbed by chaos.\n\n160. It is useless to add that pantheism destroys liberty of will; this\nliberty of which we are so clearly and vividly conscious, and which\naccompanies us through every moment of our existence. In this monstrous\nsystem absolute unity is inseparable from absolute necessity; the\nexistent and the possible are confounded; nothing which is can cease to\nbe; nothing which is not can be. The action must spring from the only\nsubstance by a spontaneous development; understanding by spontaneity\nthe absence of an external cause; but this action cannot but exist, it\nwill be an irradiation, as it were, of the only substance, just as\nlight radiates from luminous bodies. Without liberty of will merit is\nabsurd; a being that acts by absolute necessity can have no merit or\ndemerit. Then laws are to no purpose, rewards and punishments useless;\nthe history of individuals as of all mankind is only a history of the\nphases of the only substance, which goes on eternally developing itself\nin subjection to absolutely necessary conditions which have no other\nfoundation than the substance itself.\n\n161. Pantheism not only destroys freedom of will, but it renders\nunintelligible all affections which relate to _another_. If there is\nonly one being, what mean the sentiments of love, respect, gratitude,\nand in general, all those which suppose a person distinct from the _me_\nwhich experiences them? No matter how distinct we suppose the term\nof these affections, they can never have any; and although they seem\nto proceed from different principles, they spring from only one. The\nman who loves one man and hates another is the _me_ loving and hating\nitself; appearances denote diversity and opposition, but at bottom\nthere is unity, identity. Who can accept such absurdities?\n\n162. Thus pantheism, after destroying the intellectual man,\nannihilates the moral man; after declaring the fundamental ideas of\nour mind contradictory, it attacks the most precious fact of our\nconsciousness,--the freedom of will; it destroys the sentiments of\nthe heart, denying our individuality, it precipitates us all into the\ndeep abyss of the only substance, the absolute being, confounding and\nidentifying us with it, till we lose within it our own existence, as\nthe molecules of a grain of dust are lost in the immensity of space.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXI.\n\nRAPID GLANCES AT THE PRINCIPAL ARGUMENTS OF PANTHEISTS.\n\n\n163. The principal arguments on which pantheism rests are founded\non the unity of science, the universality of the idea of being, the\nabsoluteness and exclusiveness of the idea of substance, and the\nabsoluteness and exclusiveness of the conception of the infinite.\n\n164. Science must be one, say the pantheists, and it cannot be\ncompletely so, unless there is unity of being. Science must be certain,\nand there cannot be absolute certainty, unless there is identity of the\nbeing which knows with the thing known.\n\nThe solution of these difficulties consists in denying the gratuitous\npropositions on which they are founded.\n\nIt is not true that human science must be one, nor that unity of\nbeing is necessary for the unity of science. They must prove both\nthese assertions; to triumph in a discussion it is not enough to\nassert. Far from either of them being sufficiently proved, they are\nboth contradicted by reason and by experience. It is unnecessary to\nrepeat here, what I have explained at full length when treating of\nthe possibility and existence of transcendental science as well in\nthe absolute intellectual order as in the human. For this I refer the\nreader to the fourth, fifth, sixth, and seventh chapters of the first\nbook.\n\nThe second proposition which exacts the identity of the subject\nknowing with the object known, has also been sufficiently refuted.\nI have elsewhere shown that the system of universal identity does\nnot help to explain the problem of representation, and I have proved\nby incontestible arguments, that besides the representation of\nidentity, there are the representations of causality and ideality.[69]\nI have also demonstrated the objective value of ideas, in so far\nas distinguished from objects, founding my proof on the unity of\nconsciousness.[70]\n\n[69] See Bk. I., Ch. VIII. to XIV.\n\n[70] See Bk. I., Ch. XXV.\n\nThe doctrines of Kant which convert the external world into a purely\nsubjective fact, and thus give rise to Fichte's transcendental\nidealism, are refuted in the second book, where I have demonstrated the\nobjectiveness of sensations,--in the third book, where I have proved\nthe reality of extension, and in the seventh book, where I have proved\nthat time is not a pure form of the internal sense.\n\n165. The argument founded on the idea of the universality of being,\nthat is, the impossibility of more than one being, because the idea\nof being is absolute and embraces every thing, is a sophism in which\nthere is a transition from the ideal order to the real, by which an\nindeterminate and abstract idea is converted into an absolute being.\nTo form a perfect conception of this idea and its relations to the\nreality, see what has been said in the fifth book, when treating of the\nidea of being.\n\n166. Spinosa, Fichte, Cousin, Krause, and all who have taught pantheism\nunder one form or another, start with a wrong definition of substance.\nIt is impossible to overrate the necessity of acquiring clear and\ndistinct ideas of this definition, for there is no doubt but that here\nis the origin of the error of the pantheists, and the secret to put a\nstop to their progress. When one examines profoundly the principles of\nsystems which have made so much noise in the philosophical world, one\nis surprised at contemplating their insubsistency in its nakedness. The\ndoctrines summed up in Chapter XIV. should be kept always in sight.\n\n167. In the importance and transcendency of the definition, the notion\nof the infinite may compete with that of substance. It is incredible to\nwhat extent this word has been abused without any care to explain its\ndifferent senses, or its origin, or the legitimacy of its applications.\n\nAll the arguments which the pantheists pretend to found on the idea\nof the infinite vanish like smoke when we clearly understand the\ncharacter, the origin, and the application of this idea.[71]\n\n[71] See the whole of Book VIII.\n\n168. I will conclude with one remark. I am profoundly convinced\nthat the most baneful systems in philosophy arise in great part\nfrom confusion of ideas, and the superficiality with which the most\nfundamental points of ontology, ideology, and psychology are examined.\nMy ruling idea in the present work is to prevent this evil; this is\nwhy I have so greatly extended the part of _fundamental philosophy_,\nabstracting, as far as possible, all secondary questions. These last\nare easily answered, after we have once acquired a clear and exact\nknowledge of the fundamental ideas of human science. (4)\n\n\n\n\nBOOK TENTH.\n\nNECESSITY AND CAUSALITY.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I.\n\nNECESSITY.\n\n\n1. Beings are divided into two classes: necessary and contingent;\nnecessary being is that which cannot but be; contingent is that which may\nbe and cease to be. In these definitions every thing is said; but their\nlaconism does not permit all that is expressed in them to be easily\nunderstood. Necessity and contingency may refer to different aspects\nand give rise to very diverse considerations. This makes a careful\nanalysis of the ideas expressed by them necessary.\n\n2. What is meant by necessity? In general that is called necessary\nwhich cannot but be; but the expression _cannot_, may be taken in\ndifferent senses: in a moral sense, as when we say: I cannot but fulfil\nthis duty; in a physical, as in this proposition; a paralytic cannot\nmove himself; and in a metaphysical sense, as: A triangle cannot be a\nquadrilateral. In the first example, the obstacle is founded on a law;\nin the second, it arises from nature; in the third, it follows from the\nessence of the things. In all these suppositions, necessity implies the\nimpossibility of the contrary, and this impossibility results from the\nnecessity.\n\n3. Hence it follows that the ideas necessity and impossibility are\ncorrelative, and that is metaphysically necessary whose opposite is\nmetaphysically impossible. Impossibility consists in the exclusion\nof one thing by another; thus, \"a circular triangle is impossible,\"\nmeans the same as \"the nature of a triangle excludes the nature of a\ncircle.\" In all impossibility, therefore, there is a term denied; as in\nall necessity there is a term affirmed; the metaphysically necessary\nis that whose opposite is contradictory; the existence of the absurd\nis impossible, the non-existence of the necessary is absurd. It is\ncontradictory for a triangle to have four sides; and it is absurd for a\ntriangle not to have three angles.\n\n4. In the purely ideal order we see many necessities without any\nrelation to existence; such are all geometrical truths. Even in the\nreal order we conceive many hypothetical necessities in contingent\nbeings: such are those which are obtained by applying absolute\nprinciples to any hypothesis furnished by experience. The principle\nof contradiction serves in an infinity of cases to found a certain\nnecessity even in contingent beings. There is no absolute necessity\nof the existence of extended beings; but on the supposition that they\nexist, it is necessary for them to have the properties proceeding from\nextension.\n\n5. In no finite being can there be an absolute necessity; the only\nnecessity which it can have is hypothetical. The relation of its\nessential attributes is necessary; but, as its essence does not exist\nnecessarily, whatever is necessary in it is so only hypothetically,\nthat is, on the supposition that it exists.\n\n6. We must then distinguish two necessities: one absolute, the other\nhypothetical. The latter relates to the essences of things, abstracting\ntheir existence, although implying it as a condition, and supposing\nanother necessary as the ground of its possibility;[72] the former\nrelates to the existence of the thing. The absolutely necessary is that\nwhose existence is absolutely necessary.\n\n[72] See Bk. IV., Chs. XXIII., XXIV., XXV., XXVI., and XXVII.\n\n7. The essence of the necessary being must contain existence; its idea\nmust involve the idea of existence, not only logical and conceptual,\nbut also realized.\n\n8. We can conceive the existence of the necessary being distinct from\nits essence, but the reason of this is in the imperfection of the idea,\nwhich with us is not intuitive, but discursive; and consequently, we\ncan distinguish between the logical order and the real order.\n\nHere we find the defect of Descartes' argument by which he pretends\nto demonstrate the existence of God from the fact that the predicate,\nexistence, is included in the idea of a necessary and infinite being.\nThe idea of necessary being involves existence, but not real existence,\nonly logical and conceptual; since after we have the idea of the\nnecessary being, it still remains to be proved that there is an object\nwhich corresponds to this idea; the predicate belongs to the subject\naccording to the manner in which the subject is taken, and as this is\nonly in the purely ideal order, the predicate is also purely ideal.\n\n9. The reality of the necessary idea cannot be demonstrated from its\nidea alone; but it may be demonstrated with complete evidence by\nintroducing into the argument other elements which experience furnishes\nus.\n\nSomething exists; at least ourselves; at least this perception which we\nhave in this act; at least the appearance of this act. I leave aside\nfor the present all the questions disputed between the dogmatists\nand the skeptics; I only suppose a _datum_ which no one can deny me,\nthough he carry skepticism to the utmost exaggeration. When I say that\nsomething exists, I only mean to affirm that not every thing is a pure\nnothing.\n\nIf something exists, something has always existed, or there is no\nmoment in which it could be said with truth: there is nothing. If\nsuch a moment of universal nothingness had ever been, nothing would\nnow exist, there never could have been any thing. Let us imagine a\nuniversal and absolute nothingness; I then ask: Is it possible that\nany thing should come from nothing? Evidently not; therefore on the\nsupposition of universal nothingness reality is absurd.\n\n10. Therefore something has always existed, with a cause, without a\ncondition on which it depends; therefore there is a necessary being.\nIts existence is supposed always, without relation to any hypothesis;\ntherefore its _not-being_ is always excluded under all conditions;\ntherefore there exists an absolutely necessary _being_, that is, a\nbeing whose _not-being_ implies a contradiction.\n\n11. Summing up the doctrine which precedes, we may say:\n\nI. That we have the idea of a necessary being.\n\nII. That we deduce its existence from its idea alone.\n\nIII. That in order to demonstrate the existence of a necessary being,\nit is sufficient to know that something exists.\n\nIV. We know by experience that something exists; for experience\npresents to us, if nothing else, the existence of our own thought.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\nTHE UNCONDITIONED.\n\n\n12. The words, conditioned and unconditioned, are greatly used in\nmodern philosophy; as the ideas which these terms express have a great\nanalogy to those explained in the last chapter, I will briefly consider\nthem here.\n\n13. The conditioned is that which depends on a condition; that is\nto say, that which is supposed if another thing, which is called\nthe condition, is supposed. If the sun is above the horizon, there\nis light; here the light is the conditioned, the sun the condition.\nThe unconditioned is that which supposes no condition, as its name\nexpresses.\n\n14. The universe is an assemblage of conditioned beings; this is\nmanifested by both internal and external experience: does any thing\nunconditioned exist? Yes.\n\n15. Representing the universe by a series A, B, C, D, E, F, ...\netc., the condition of F is in E; the condition of E in D; that of\nD in C; that of C in B, and so on successively. If there is nothing\nunconditioned this retrogression will extend to infinity, and we shall\nhave an infinite series of conditioned terms.\n\nTo arrive at any term, for example, B, it will have been necessary to\npass through the infinite conditions which precede it: the infinite\nseries will have been exhausted: this is contradictory. And as what\nis said of B may be said of A, or of any other of the preceding or\nsucceeding terms, it follows that they are all impossible: therefore\nthe series is absurd.\n\n16. In the supposed series all is conditioned, there is nothing\nunconditioned; and still the existence of its successive totality is\nnecessary. Therefore the series in itself is unconditioned; therefore\na collection of conditioned terms is unconditioned, although it is\nsupposed impossible to assign any thing, out of the series, which is\nunconditioned. Who would admit such an absurdity?\n\n17. Let us give a more precise formula to the argument. Taking any\nthree terms in the series; A ... F ... N, we may form the following\npropositions.\n\n If A exists, F and N will exist.\n If N exists, F and A have existed.\n If F exists, A has existed and N will exist.\n\nObjections.--I. Whence arises the connection of the conditions with one\nanother?\n\nII. Why should any one of them be supposed?\n\n18. By admitting a necessary, unconditioned being which contains the\ncondition of whatever exists, every thing is explained. To the first\nobjection it may be answered, that the connection of the _conditioned_\nconditions depends on the _unconditioned_ condition. To the second,\nit may be said that the primitive condition has no need of any other\ncondition, supposing it to be a necessary being. To ask _why_ it should\nbe supposed, is to fall into a contradiction; since it is unconditioned\nit has no _why_, the reason of its existence is in itself.\n\n19. But if we admit nothing necessary, nothing unconditioned, neither\nthe terms nor their connection can be explained. Infinite terms would\nexist, necessarily connected, with any internal or external sufficient\nreason. There would be no more reason for the existence of the universe\nthan for its non-existence; being and nonentity would be indifferent to\nit; and it cannot be conceived why existence should have prevailed. For\nnothing it is evident that nothing is required; why then is there not\nan absolute and eternal nothing?\n\n20. The more we examine the necessity of the connection of the\nconditions, one with another, the stronger this difficulty becomes; for\nif it be said that one condition cannot exist without another; with\nstill more reason we ask why a first condition is not necessary for the\ncollection of the conditions, or the entire series.\n\n21. Therefore the conditioned supposes the unconditioned; the first\ngiven, we can conclude the second. The conditioned is given us in\nthe external and in the internal world. Therefore there exists an\nunconditioned being, whose existence has no reason in any thing outside\nof itself.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\nIMMUTABILITY OF NECESSARY AND UNCONDITIONED BEING.\n\n\n22. The absolutely necessary and unconditioned is immutable. For\nits existence _is_, or, to speak in modern language, is _supposed_\nabsolutely, by intrinsic necessity, without any condition; and\nwith this existence its _state_ is also supposed. We abstract for\nthe present the nature of this state, whether it be of this or\nthat perfection, this or that degree, or even finite or infinite.\nIts existence being supposed unconditionally, its state is\nsupposed unconditionally also; therefore as its _non-existence_ is\ncontradictory, (Ch. I.) its _no-state_ is also contradictory. Change\nis only a transition from one state to another state which implies\nthe _no-state_ of the first; therefore change in the necessary is\ncontradictory.\n\n23. In order to present this in a clearer and more precise manner, we\nwill call E the necessary and unconditioned being. As E is supposed\nabsolutely by intrinsic necessity, without any condition, the _not-E_\nmust be contradictory. E is not abstract but real being, consequently\nit must have certain perfections, as intelligence, will, activity,\nor any other whatever; and it must have these perfections in a\ncertain degree, abstracting for the present, whether it be greater or\nless, finite or infinite. With the absolute existence of E a state\nof perfection, which we shall call N, is also supposed. What has\ndetermined the state N? By the supposition, it can have been determined\nby nothing; since the state is unconditioned. Therefore, if the state N\nis absolutely and necessarily, the _not-N_ is contradictory. Therefore\nthe change by which E would pass from N to _not-N_ is contradictory.\n\n24. But let us for a moment suppose a change in the necessary being,\nand suppose it to have proceeded from this being itself. As the\nreason of the change must be necessary and eternal, we should have to\nadmit an infinite series of evolutions, and should again fall into\nthe impossibility of reconciling the infinity of the series with the\nexistence of any one of its terms.[73]\n\n[73] See Ch. II.\n\n25. Thus it is demonstrated that the necessary and unconditioned being\ncan suffer no change which would cause it to lose its primitive state.\n\nThe necessary being can lose nothing; it cannot pass from N to _not-N_;\nbut who knows but what it is possible that without losing N, or\npassing to _not-N_, it might acquire something which could be united\nto N in one way or another. In other words; N being given, _not-N_\nis contradictory, but would N + P be contradictory, P expressing a\nperfection, or degree of perfection? This would be impossible; because\nP which is added must emanate from N; therefore all that is in P was\nalready in N; therefore there has been no change, and to suppose it is\ncontradictory.\n\n26. It may be replied that P was in N virtually, and that the new state\nonly adds a new form. But does this form, as such, involve something\n_new_ in reality? Either it does or it does not: if it does not, there\nis no change; if it does, it was either contained in N or not contained\nin it; if contained in it, there is no change; if not contained in it,\nwhence does it come?\n\n27. To elude this demonstration, some have imagined various necessary\nbeings acting on each other, and mutually producing changes in each\nother,--by this means they attempt to explain whence the _new_ states\ncome. But these are not only fictions, and evidently groundless cavils\nin contradiction with the principles of ontology, but they may be\ndestroyed by one conclusive argument.\n\nLet A, B, C, D, be the necessary and unconditioned beings; each\nis supposed absolutely, and with primitive states, which we shall\nrespectively call _a_, _b_, _c_, _d_. Then, taking them in their\nprimitive state, the collection of the existences will be united with\na collection of necessary and unconditioned states, which we may\nrepresent in this formula: A_a_, B_b_, C_c_, D_d_, (1.) This expression\nrepresents a primitive, necessary, and unconditioned state: now I\nask: whence come the changes? All is unconditioned; how then is the\nconditioned, the mutable introduced?\n\n28. The force of the argument is not weakened by supposing the\nprimitive and mutual action of A, B, C, D, to be implied in the\nprimitive states _a_, _b_, _c_, _d_. For the mutual actions, being\nprimitive and absolute, would produce primitively and absolutely a\nresult in their respective terms. This result would be primitively\nnecessary, and would be contained in the formula. (1.) Therefore\nthe formula would suffer no variation by the new supposition; and\nconsequently there would have been no change of any kind.\n\n29. By imagining that the mutual action does not suppose a primitive\nstate, but a successive series of states, we fall into the infinite\nseries, and consequently into the impossibility of arriving at any term\nof it, without supposing the infinity to be exhausted, (Ch. II.).\n\n30. Again, the essences of the necessary and unconditioned beings A, B,\nC, D, being distinct, what reason is there for supposing them to be in\nrelations of activity? What is the ground of this relation if they are\nall four necessary, unconditioned, and therefore independent of each\nother?\n\n31. But let us leave such absurdities, and go on with our analysis of\nthe idea of a necessary and unconditioned being. Immutability excludes\nperfectibility, so that it is necessary either to suppose the summit\nof perfection primitively in the necessary being, or to admit that\nit can never attain this perfection. Perfectibility is one of the\ncharacteristics of the contingent, which improves its mode of being by\na series of transformations; the absolutely necessary is what it is,\nand can be nothing else.\n\n32. The contingent must emanate from the necessary, the conditioned\nfrom the unconditioned; therefore all perfections, of whatever order,\nmust be found in the necessary and unconditioned being; therefore\nall the perfections of existing reality must be in it, at least,\n_virtually_, and those which imply no imperfection must be contained in\nit _formally_.[74]\n\n[74] See Bk. VIII., Ch. XX. to the end.\n\n33. The possibility of the non-existent must have a foundation;[75]\npossible perfections must exist in a real being, if their idea is\npossible; therefore the infinite scale of perfections, which we\nconceive in the order of pure possibility, besides those which exist,\nmust be realized in the necessary and unconditioned being.\n\n[75] See Bk. IV., Chs. XXII. to XXVIII., and Bk. V., Chs. VII. and VIII.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\nIDEAS OF CAUSE AND EFFECT.\n\n\n34. We have the idea of cause; the continual use which we are always\nmaking of it shows this. Philosophers do not alone possess it; it is\nthe inheritance of mankind. But what do we understand by cause? All\nthat makes any thing pass from not-being to being, as the effect is all\nthat which passes from not-being to being. I am not now considering\nwhether that which passes from not-being to being is substance or\naccident, nor the manner in which the cause influences this transition.\nHence the definition includes every class of cause, and every species\nof causality.\n\n35. The idea of cause contains:\n\nI. The idea of being.\n\nII. The relation to that which passes from not-being to being, as of a\ncondition to the conditioned.\n\nThe idea of effect contains:\n\nI. The idea of being.\n\nII. The idea of the transition from not-being to being.\n\nIII. The relation to the cause, as of the conditioned to the condition.\n\n36. Axiom I.--Nothing cannot be a cause; or in other terms: every cause\nis a being, or exists.\n\n37. I say that this is an axiom, because it cannot be demonstrated,\nsince the predicate existence, is evidently contained in the idea of\ncause. That which is a cause, is; if it is not, it is not a cause. To\naffirm the cause and deny that it is, is to affirm and deny at the same\ntime. Therefore this proposition is an axiom. To be convinced of its\ntruth, we need only to attend to the ideas of cause and effect, and we\nsee the idea of being evidently contained in the idea of cause. The\nexplanation which I give must not be regarded as a demonstration, but\nas an illustration, for the purpose of better comparing the two ideas.\nWhoever compares them as he ought will want no demonstration, he will\nsee it intuitively, and this is what constitutes the character of an\naxiom.\n\n38. Axiom II.--There is no effect without a cause.\n\n39. To understand the sense of this axiom it must be observed, that\nhere the word _effect_ only means that which passes from not-being\nto being, whether it be caused or not; for, if by effect was meant a\nthing caused, the axiom would be an identical and useless proposition.\nSubstituting for effect its meaning, it would be, \"There is nothing\ncaused without being caused,\"--which is very true, but of no use. The\nsense then is this: whatever passes from not-being to being, requires\nsomething distinct from itself, which produces this transition.\n\n40. I say that this proposition is an axiom, and to be convinced of\nit, we need only fix our attention upon the ideas contained in it. Let\nus consider a thing that is, and transfer it to the time when it was\nnot. Let us abstract all that which is not it, let us suppose no other\nbeing which may have produced it or taken part in its production; I\nassert that we see evidently that the transition to being, will never\nbe made. Not only is it impossible for us to make the object emanate\nfrom the pure idea of its not-being, but we also see that it can never\nemanate from it. There is no being, no action, no production of any\nkind; there is pure nothing; whence will the being emanate? The truth,\nof the proposition is then intuitively presented to us: we not only do\nnot see the possibility of the apparition of being in the pure idea\nof not-being by itself, but we see in this idea the impossibility of\nthis apparition. They are ideas which exclude each other; not-being is\npossible only by the exclusion of being, and _vice versa_.\n\n41. When we conceive a productive action, we either refer it to the\nthing which from not-being must pass to being, or to something distinct\nfrom this. In the first case, we fall into contradiction; because we\nsuppose an action and do not suppose it, since there is no action in\npure nothing. Let us suppose that the thing is cause before being; we\nthen find ourselves in contradiction with Axiom I, (\u00a7 36). In the\nsecond case, we already conceive the cause, since cause is only that\nwhich produces the transition from not-being to being.\n\n42. The common expression, \"ex nihilo nihil fit,\" is a truth, if\nunderstood in the sense of Axiom II.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V.\n\nORIGIN OF THE NOTION OF CAUSALITY.\n\n\n43. Are there in the world any cause and effect? This is equivalent to\nasking whether there is any change in the world. All change involves a\ntransition from not-being to being. The least change is inconceivable\nwithout this transition. Whatever is changed is, after changing, in\n_another_ way than it was before the change; therefore it has this mode\nof being which it had not before. This mode did not exist _before_, it\nexists _now_; it has passed, therefore, from not-being to being.\n\n44. Even if we were not in relation with the external world, and our\nmind was confined to internal facts alone, to the consciousness of the\n_me_ and its modifications, we should know that there is transition\nfrom not-being to being, by the testimony of the successive appearance\nof new perceptions and affections. Within ourselves we experience the\nebb and flow of modifications which pass from not-being to being, and\nfrom being to not-being.\n\n45. It is clear, from what has been said, that the ideas of cause and\neffect suppose a real or possible order of contingent beings. If there\nwere only necessary and immutable beings, there could be no causes and\neffects.\n\n46. I said (Chap. IV.) that the idea of cause contains the idea of\nbeing and the idea of relation to the not-being which has passed or\npasses to being. The idea of cause is not a simple idea; it is composed\nof these two. The idea of being alone is not sufficient to constitute\nit; for we may conceive being without conceiving cause. What the idea\nof cause adds to the idea of being is something distinct from the\nidea of being, and not contained in it; it may be called causality,\npower, productive force, activity, or any such term; they all express\nthe relation of one being to realize in another the transition from\nnot-being to being.\n\n47. In the idea of causality is likewise included another simple idea,\nwhich, though accompanying the idea of being, must not be confounded\nwith it. If any one should call it a modification of the idea of being,\nI should have no objection.\n\n48. Whence does the idea of causality arise? The mere intuition of the\nidea of being does not seem sufficient to produce it. The idea of being\nis simple, it expresses nothing but being; we can, therefore, find in\nit no relation to the transition from not-being to being.\n\n49. Does it, perchance, spring from experience? Here we must\ndistinguish between the idea of causality, and the knowledge of the\nexistence of the cause. Experience reveals the succession of beings,\nthat is, their transition from not-being to being, and _vice versa_.\nWe have already remarked that in the intuition of not-being with\nrelation to being we see the impossibility of a transition, without the\nmediation of some being which executes it; therefore the certainty of\nthe existence of the cause arises from experience, combined with the\nintuition of the ideas of being and not-being.\n\n50. If this experience did not exist, we should not know that causality\nis possible; because in the idea of being, as we possess it, we do\nnot see the idea of force: we might perhaps conceive the force, but\nwe could not know whether any thing in reality corresponds to it. We\nshould thus have the _notion_ of the force, but not the _notice_ of its\nexistence, nor even the certainty of its possibility.\n\n51. But if we examine it well, this want of experience is an impossible\nsupposition; because a limited intelligent being, as uniting\nintelligence with limitation, feels the succession of its perceptions,\nand, consequently, experiences within itself the transition from\na not-being to being. And as, on the other hand, it perceives its\npower of combining ideas, it perceives within itself the existence of\ncausality, of a power which produces its reflections.\n\n52. The exercise of our will, whether with respect to internal or\nexternal acts, likewise gives us the knowledge of the dependence of\nsome things upon others; and the impressions which we receive without\nour will, or against it, confirm us in this conviction. Without this\nexperience we should see the succession of the phenomena, but should\nnot know their relations of causality; for it is clear that the\ninclination to assign as the cause of a phenomenon that which preceded\nit, supposes the idea of cause and the knowledge of the dependence of\nthe phenomena in the relation of causes and effects.\n\n53. Some philosophers say that man has no idea of the creation, from\nwhich, without intending it, they come to the conclusion that we have\nnot the idea of any cause. By creation is meant the transition of a\nsubstance from not-being to being, by virtue of the productive action\nof another substance. I hold that this is only the idea of causality\nin its highest degree, that is, as applied to the production of a\nsubstance; but since therefore we have the idea of cause, the idea\nof creation is not a new and inconceivable idea, but a perfection of\nan idea which is common to all mankind. We have seen that the idea\nof cause contains the idea of producing a transition from not-being\nto being; this power is an attribute of every active being, but with\nthis difference, that finite causes have only the power to produce\nmodifications, whilst the infinite cause has also the power to produce\nsubstances.\n\n54. Here we find the same thing as in other branches of our\nphilosophical cognitions: the idea of the essence pertains to reason,\nthe knowledge of its existence depends on experience. The first is\nindependent of the second, and we may reason on the essence by means\nof the condition of existence, that is, by means of a postulate.[76]\nWe always have this postulate, if in nothing else, at least in the\nphenomena of our consciousness.\n\n[76] See Bk. V., Chs. VII. and VIII.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI.\n\nFORMULA AND DEMONSTRATION OF THE PRINCIPLE OF CAUSALITY.\n\n\n55. The principle of causality, or the proposition: all that commences\nmust have a cause; has been somewhat disputed latterly; hence it is\nnecessary for us to place it beyond the reach of attack. I believe\nit possible to do this, by presenting the doctrine of the preceding\nchapters under a clear point of view, which shall drive away all doubt\nand clear up all difficulty. I beg the reader's attention for a few\nmoments to the argument which I am going to propose.\n\n56. Let us take any being, A. In order that the principle of causality\nmay be applied to it it is necessary that it should have begun to be,\nand that it should not have existed before; for, if we do not suppose\nthis beginning, A must have existed always.\n\nWe can then assign a duration in which A was not, and in which there\nwas not-A. Therefore in the order of duration there has been a little\nseries of two terms:\n\n not-A ... A.\n\nTo begin is to pass from the first term, not-A to A. The principle of\ncausality says: the transition from the first term to the second is not\npossible without the intervention of a third term, B, which must be\nsomething real.\n\n57. What does the term not-A represent by itself alone? the pure\nnegation of A, the mere nonentity of A. In the conception of not-A,\ninstead of A, we find its contradictory term; so that, instead of the\nsecond being contained in the former, they mutually exclude each other,\nand make the proposition: it is impossible for not-A and A to exist at\nthe same time, absolutely true. Thus it is impossible for A ever to\nemanate from the conception not-A, and consequently without a real term\nto produce the transition it is impossible to pass from not-A to A,\neven in the purely ideal order.\n\n58. Observe, however, that I do not pretend to say that, conceiving\nnot-A so as to deny A as known, it would be impossible to conceive\nA; for it is evident that whoever conceives not-A, must have just\nconceived A, and he might conceive it entirely alone, by simply\ndestroying the negation; but I say that on the supposition that there\nis an absolute conception of not-A, conformed to the absolute objective\nnot-A, A could never emanate from this conception; and if we reflect on\nit we shall see that there could not even be this conception, since the\nthought of pure negation is no thought, no conception. There would then\nbe an absolute absence of conception; and in the purely ideal order,\nwe should find ourselves in the first term of the series, in a pure\nnegation, in not-A, without any means of passing to the second term, A.\n\n59. Those, then, who deny the principle of causality, conceive the\ntransition from not-A to A without any reason, or any intermediary:\nthose who deny creation, admit what is a thousand times more\nincomprehensible than creation. Whence do they infer the possibility of\nthis transition? Not from experience; because experience presents only\nsuccession, and therefore not absolute appearance in the manner which\nthey suppose: not from reason; because reason cannot make a positive\nconception emanate from a pure negation.\n\n60. How is the transition from not-A to A effected? Those who admit\nthe principle of causality, say it is effected by the action of B,\nwhich they call the cause. If it is a substance which is produced, they\nsuppose the intervention of an infinite power. But those who deny the\nprinciple of causality can only answer that the transition from not-A\nto A is made absolutely. They imagine the instant M, in which A did\nnot exist; and then the instant N, in which A exists. But why? They\nallege no reason: without their knowing how, A has arisen from nothing,\nwithout the action of any thing. This is a manifest contradiction.\n\n61. The principle of causality is founded on the pure ideas of being\nand not-being. Suppose only not-being, and we see evidently that\nbeing cannot begin. The principle then is purely ontological: those\nwho, in order to establish, or oppose it, appeal _only_ to reasons of\nexperience, put the question badly; they take it from its true field;\nthey confound the _notice_ of causality with the _notion_ or idea of\ncausality.\n\nThose philosophers who keep within the sensible order, cannot give a\nsolid foundation to this principle; for this reason, they who admit\nno other ideas than sensations, have all fallen into errors or doubts\non this point; and all sensists would have fallen into the same doubt\nif they had only been logical enough to draw the last consequences of\ntheir doctrine.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII.\n\nTHE PRINCIPLE OF PRECEDENCY.\n\n\n62. The transition from not-being to being implies succession: to\nconceive that something begins, we must conceive that something did not\nexist. The series\n\n not-A, A,\n\nhas no sense if either term is wanting; and these terms, inasmuch as\nthey are contradictory, cannot exist at the same time.\n\n63. Let us imagine absolute nothingness. The first term, not-A, stands\nalone. All existence is denied: nothing can be affirmed without\ncontradicting the supposition. Then there is no time; for time being\nonly the succession of things, or of being and not-being,[77] cannot\nexist when there is nothing which can succeed. If we suppose any thing\nto begin, we establish the series not-A, A; in which case we imagine\ntwo different instants M and N, to which the terms of the series\nrespectively correspond in this manner:\n\n[77] See Bk. VII.\n\n not-A .. A.\n M .... N.\n\nIt may be said with truth: M is not N. What is the meaning of this\nproposition? Since time and duration in general is not distinct from\nthe things that endure[78], N can only represent the existence of A,\nin relation to not-A; M in the same manner can represent only not-A,\nin relation to A. Hence the conception of A, in so far as it begins,\ncontains the relation to not-A, without which it could not be conceived\nas _begun_.\n\n[78] See Bk. VII., Chs. IV. and V.\n\n64. What we have explained is conceivable on the supposition at least\nof one intelligence; because this intelligence would refer not-A\nand A to their proper duration, successively, if this duration were\nsuccessive like ours; in some other way, if this duration were not\nsuccessive. But if there is absolutely nothing, the series, not-A ...\nA, is inconceivable, since the relation of A, in so far as it begins,\nhas no real or conceived term of comparison, unless we imagine a pure\ntime, entirely empty, in which we suppose the terms of the series to be\nplaced.\n\n65. Thus it seems that by the mere fact of thinking A, in so far\nas begun, we think also a preceding existence, because there is no\nbeginning unless not-A preceded A; and this precedence means nothing\nunless there is an existence to which it relates, either as to a\nsuccessive series, or as to an immutable duration.\n\n66. If A must be preceded by an existence B, then nothing can begin\nindependently of a preceding existence, or unless something already\nexists; or the simple conception of succession implies the necessity of\nsomething _always_ existing, in order that something may begin.\n\n67. As duration is nothing distinct from things, the two terms of\nthe series, B, A, of which one precedes the other, cannot be placed\nin an absolute duration distinct from the things themselves, as in\ntwo distinct instants, independently of the things. The relation,\nthen, which exists between B and A is not a relation of one instant\nto another, since the instants in themselves are nothing, but of one\nthing to another. Therefore A, inasmuch as it begins, has a necessary\nrelation to B. Therefore B is the necessary condition of the existence\nof A. Therefore it is demonstrated that every being which begins,\ndepends on an existent being.\n\n68. This demonstration, though differently developed, is found in\nthe works of Baron Pascual Galuppi, Professor of Philosophy in the\nUniversity of Naples;[79] and although it is impossible to deny that\nit is very profound, still it does not leave the understanding wholly\nsatisfied. These are the words of the Italian philosopher:\n\n[79] _Lett. filos. sulle vicissit. della filosofia_, Lettera XIV.\n\n\"Is the proposition: there is no effect without a cause, an identical\nproposition? I have demonstrated its identity in this manner: whatever\nhas a beginning of existence must have been preceded either by an\nempty time or by a being; because otherwise the thing of which we are\nspeaking would be the first existence, and the first letter of the\nalphabet of beings, and it could not be said that it begins to be, for\nthe notion of _beginning of existence_ implies a priority in relation\nto the being which begins. These two notions, _existence begun_, and\n_existence preceded by another_, are then identical; but is it possible\nfor an existence to be preceded by an empty time? I have proved that\nan empty duration is a chimera, a product of the imagination, without\nany reality. The development of this proof, which I shall not give in\nthis place, may be found in my _Essays on the Critique of Knowledge_.\nI have there established that time is nothing else than the _number\nof productions_. Aristotle said that time was the _number of motion_.\nTherefore an _existence begun is an existence preceded by another\nexistence_. This proposition is identical; but how can an existence\nbe preceded by another? Is that which precedes, perchance, found in\nan instant of time prior to that in which that which is preceded is\nfound? Then we fall again into the doctrine of a time distinct from\nexistent things. Thus we must admit that the existence which precedes\nis such as to make the existence preceded _existence begun_. It is not\nbegun because it is preceded; the _priority_ of the existence which\nprecedes, is a priority of _nature_, an objective priority, which makes\nthe beginning of the existence which is preceded; it is therefore\nthe _efficient cause_ of this existence. Thus the great principle\nof causality stands invincibly demonstrated,--it is an identical\nproposition.\"\n\n69. I say again that this demonstration does not leave one wholly\nsatisfied; not because it is not conclusive in itself, but because\nit needs greater development. The nerve of the proof is in the\nimpossibility of conceiving a _beginning_, without conceiving something\npre-existent; or to conceive precedency, without the relation of that\nwhich begins to that which pre-exists. It is not easy to conceive how\nfrom this may be inferred the intrinsic dependence of the things;\nand founding the argument upon so difficult an idea as that of time,\ngreatly increases the doubt.\n\n70. Let us suppose the world to exist, and something to begin now.\nPrecedence is then conceived without dependence. This, in fact,\nhappens continually; since beings are continually beginning which are\npreceded by others on which they do not depend. It may be said that\nthey do not depend on all those which precede them, but still they\ndepend on one of them. This is precisely what is to be proved. In\norder to prove that the principle of causality is demonstrated by the\nmere idea of the order of duration, it is necessary to prove that the\nrelation of precedence is a relation of dependence. That which begins\nsupposes something: certainly; but it remains to be proved that it\ndepends on this thing as on something producing it, and not only as on\na condition which makes the conception of beginning possible for us.\nUntil it is proved that the _action_ of a being is indispensable for\nthe transition from not-being to being, the principle of causality does\nnot seem to be proved, but only that of precedency; and as the order\nof things in duration, as priority and posteriority, can represent no\nother dependence than that of pure succession, it would follow that if\nwe should confine ourselves to precedency, we should not prove that\nevery thing that begins must depend on another, but that every thing\nthat begins must succeed another; this last is not the principle of\ncausality, but of succession.\n\n71. We will make these ideas clearer. The difficulty raised against\nthe former demonstration will be better understood, if we observe\nthat those who reject the principle of causality, do not conceive it\nimpossible for _any_ thing to begin at _any_ moment without any cause.\nLet us represent the successive beings of the universe by the series\n... A, B, C, D, E, ... and the times in which they exist, by the series\n... _a_, _b_, _c_, _d_, _e_.... According to the demonstration which we\nare examining, no term could have begun, unless another had preceded\nit; wherefore, D _begun_ means the same as D _preceded_. Therefore D\nhas a necessary relation to C, because the instants _d_ and _c_ are\nnothing in themselves, as distinguished from D and C.\n\nAny one who does not admit the principle of causality will say that\nD may begin without any dependence on C; and that in order that the\nconception of beginning may be possible, it is only necessary that\nthere should _always_ have been something existing, although the terms\n_preceding_ and those _preceded_ have no relation to each other. Thus\nas the order of beings is represented by the series ... A, B, C, D,\nE, ... another series ... M, N, P, Q, R, ... may be imagined, to both\nof which the series ... _a_, _b_, _c_, _d_, _e_, ... corresponds.\nThen D may begin without any _necessary_ dependence on C, for it is\nsufficient that P pre-exists at the instant _c_, in order to make the\nconception of beginning possible for us; in which case, D will have\nno _necessary_ relation, either to C or to P; since the precedence\nof either is sufficient. And as it is evident that what we have said\nof C and P may be said of any other terms of these or other series,\nit follows that the demonstration only leads us to the necessity of\nconceiving something _pre-existent_; and this only in order to make\nthe conception of a beginning possible. If to this we add the peculiar\ndifficulty proceeding from the nature of the ideas of time and of all\nduration, I think we must conclude that the demonstration is not so\nsatisfactory as might be desired. Those who have not examined the idea\nof time very profoundly will scarcely understand the meaning of the\nproof; the others will see the contradiction involved in an absolute\nbeginning demonstrated, and therefore the necessity of something having\nbeen _always_ existing; but not the intrinsic dependence implied in\nthe relation of an effect to a cause. These difficulties render a more\nrigorous and profound examination necessary.\n\n72. The principle of precedency leads us to an important result. Our\nunderstanding conceives absolutely an external existence; since it is\nimpossible for it to conceive an absolute beginning without a preceding\nbeing.\n\n73. The conception of absolute nothing is impossible. I. Because this\nconception would be entirely void, or rather, the absence of all\nconception. We conceive negation relatively to an existence,[80] but\nnot absolutely. II. Because a conception is not possible without\nconsciousness, and consciousness implies the idea of a being, of\nsomething, and this is contradictory of absolute nothing.\n\n[80] See Book V., Chap. IX.\n\n74. Unable to conceive absolute nothing, we always conceive something\nexisting; and since, as we have demonstrated, we cannot conceive an\nabsolute beginning, it follows that we cannot think without our thought\nimplying an eternal existence.\n\nHow luminous a truth! What reflections it inspires! Let us continue to\nmeditate on it.\n\n75. Hence the necessity of thinking the necessary and eternal is a\nprimitive fact of our mind, and the confusion which we feel in thinking\non duration in the abstract, and the inclination to imagine time\nbefore the world existed, arise from the necessity of conceiving the\neternal,--a necessity, from which our mind cannot emancipate itself so\nlong as it thinks.\n\n76. The basis of the principle of contradiction, the idea of being,\nis found in our conceptions in an absolute manner; its opposite, the\nconception of not-being is found only in relation to the contingent,\nand is a sort of condition implied by contingency.\n\n77. Every thing contingent includes some not-being, so far as\ncontingent it can _not be_, and therefore its not-being is at least\nin the order of possibility. But these transitions from not-being to\nbeing are not even conceivable without presupposing something existing,\nnecessary, and eternal.\n\n78. Thus in our ideas we find being as absolute, and not-being only as\nrelative; and we can conceive being which has proceeded from not-being,\nor has begun, only in relation to an absolute being.\n\n79. This relation considered objectively does not seem at first sight\nto be the relation of causality, but only of succession; but it\npresents a subjective fact which brings us to the knowledge of the\nobjective truth. Our conceptions of not-being and being are connected\nin such sort that we cannot conceive the transition from not-being to\nbeing without conceiving a pre-existent being: here we find a reflex\nof objective causality which is revealed to us in subjective facts.\nDuration, as distinct from things, is a pure imagination; the relation\nof durations is therefore a relation of beings. True, in this relation\nof durations we discover only succession, and not intrinsic dependence;\nbut this dependence, though not known intuitively, is represented in\nthe very connection in which we conceive beings in duration. It is\ncertain that we can imagine different series; but that of time is a\npure imagination in so far as we conceive it distinct from others.\nIf the series of times disappears, there remains only the series of\nthings: the relation between the terms will be the relation between the\nthings; and what is called the dependence of _succession_ will be the\ndependence of _reality_. The real relation of that which passes from\nnot-being to being, with that which is absolutely, is a dependence of\ncausality.\n\n80. Let us imagine any series of realities. A, B, C, D, E, ... M, N, P,\nQ, R....\n\nThe series of times _a_, _b_, _c_, _d_, _e_, in so far as distinct\nfrom the others, means nothing. In this case it may be eliminated, and\nall the relations of some of the terms on others will be relations of\nthings, not of time.\n\nNow, it has been demonstrated that a term, D, for example, cannot\nbe conceived as passing from not-being to being, or as beginning,\nwithout a relation, and it has been shown that this relation is a real\nrelation of D to any of the terms. It has been objected that D, in\norder to begin, requires only a term which would make the conception of\npriority, and consequently, of beginning, possible, which term might be\nsought in another distinct series; but this is really only to change a\nname; for, if the term which is necessary for the beginning is found in\nanother series, the cause is found in it also, for in it is found that\nwhich is necessary for the effect.\n\n81. All the terms begun presuppose another, either one or more, for\nwe here abstract their unity; therefore we must come at last to one\nor more terms not begun. Those which have begun could not have begun\nwithout the existence of those which have not begun; therefore the\nexistence of these is necessary for the existence of those. Therefore\nthe existence of these last contains the reasons of the beginning of\nthe existence of the others; therefore they contain true causality.\n\n82. The difficulties opposed to this demonstration arise from\ninadvertently violating the supposition by attributing to duration an\nexistence distinct from the beings. In order to perceive the whole\nforce of the proof, it is necessary to eliminate entirely the imaginary\nconception of pure duration: and then it will be seen that the\ndependence represented as the relation of duration is the dependence of\nthe beings themselves,--a dependence which represents nothing else than\nthe relation expressed by the principle of causality.\n\n83. After completely eliminating the conception of pure duration as a\nthing distinct from the beings, there remains only the transition from\nnot-being to being as all that is expressed by the word, beginning.\nIn this case we find that the principle of precedency is the same as\nthe principle of causality; and as we have had to abstract entirely\nduration in itself in order to solve the difficulties, we find that if\nthe principle of causality is to be placed beyond all doubt, and to be\nregarded as an axiom, it can only rest on the contradiction between\nnot-being and being, or the impossibility of conceiving a being which\nsuddenly makes its appearance, without any thing more than a pure\nnot-being preceding it.\n\n84. Thus, after examining the question on every side, we come to what\nwe established in the preceding chapters: a not-being cannot arrive\nat being without the intervention of a being: the series not-A, A, is\nimpossible without the intervention of a being, B. We find it so even\nin our ideas, and to contradict this truth is to deny our reason.\n\nI believe, then, that the principle of causality is completely\nexplained only in the manner in which we have treated it in the\npreceding chapters. To begin supposes a not-being of that which\nbegins; and it is impossible and contradictory to deduce being from\nthe conception of not-being. The principle is true subjectively,\nbecause it is founded on our ideas; but it is also true objectively,\nbecause in these cases objectiveness is necessarily joined with\nsubjectiveness.[81] The being which suddenly appears, without a cause,\nwithout a reason, without any thing, is an absurd representation which\nour intellect rejects as instantly and as strongly as it accepts the\nprinciple of contradiction.\n\n[81] See Bk. I., Chap. XXV.\n\nAs time is the relation of not-being to being--the order of the\nvariable--it is a contradiction to conceive succession without any\nthing which pre-exists; and thus the principle of precedency confirms\nthe principle of causality; or rather, it shows that the two are one,\nthough presented under different aspects: the principle of precedency\nrelates to duration, that of causality to being; but both of them\nexpress an application of the fundamental principle: it is impossible\nfor the same thing to be and not be at the same time.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII.\n\nCAUSALITY IN ITSELF.--INSUFFICIENCY AND ERROR OF SOME EXPLANATIONS.\n\n\n85. Causality implies relation: if in exercise, it implies actual\nrelation; considered not in exercise, but _in potentia_, it implies a\npossible relation. Nothing causes itself; causality always relates to\nanother. There is no cause where there is no effect; and there is no\neffect where there is no transition from not-being to being. If this\ntransition takes place in a substance which was not, but begins to be,\nit is called creation; and is said to be passive, relatively to the\neffect, and active, in relation to the cause. If the transition is of\naccidents only, the effect is a _new_ modification; we do not then say\nthat there is a new being, but that the being is _in another manner_.\n\n86. From this it may be inferred that causality is not the same\nas activity: all causality is activity, but not all activity is\ncausality. God is active in himself; but he is cause only in relation\nto the external. His intelligence and his will are certainly infinite\nactivity, considered in themselves, and abstracted from creation, as\nwe conceive God from all eternity before the beginning of the world;\nyet, inasmuch as they are purely immanent, they are causality, for they\nproduce nothing new in God. His intelligence is a pure act, infinitely\nperfect, and can never suffer any change; the same must be said of\nhis will: therefore the divine intelligence and will with respect to\nGod himself are not acts of causality. Even as referred to external\nobjects, they are a producing cause in reality, only by subjection to\nthe free will of the Creator; for otherwise we should have to admit\nthat God created the world necessarily.\n\nActivity in creatures, even in immanent operations, is always\ncausality; for they cannot exercise their activity without producing\nnew modifications. Acts of understanding and will are the exercise of\nan immanent activity, and yet they modify us in different ways. When we\nthink or will we are in _a different manner_ from that in which we are\nwhen we do not think or will; and when we pass from thinking or willing\none thing to think or will another, this transition cannot take place\nwithout our experiencing _new modes_ of being.\n\n87. In what does the relation of efficient causality consist? What is\nthe meaning of the dependence of the effect in relation to the cause?\nThis is a difficult and a profound question; one of the most difficult\nand most profound which can be presented to science. The majority of\nmen and even of philosophers imagine that they can solve it, by using\nwords which, rightly analyzed, explain nothing.\n\n88. To cause, it is said, is to give being. What means to give? To give\nis here synonymous with to produce. What means to produce? With this\nthe explanations are at an end, unless one should wish to fall into a\nvicious circle, saying that to produce is to cause or give being.\n\nA cause, it is also said, is that from which a thing results. What is\nunderstood by resulting? To emanate. What is to emanate? To emanate is\nto proceed, to flow from another. Always the same thing: metaphorical\nexpressions which at bottom have all the same meaning.\n\nIt is said that a cause is that which _gives_, _produces_, _makes_,\n_communicates_, _generates_, etc., and that an effect is that which\n_receives_, _proceeds_, _emanates_, _results_, _flows_, _comes_,\n_springs_, etc.\n\n89. Causality implies succession, but is not identified with it. We can\nclearly conceive that B is after A, without A being the cause of B.\n\nInternal and external experience present continual examples of\nsuccession distinct from causality. A man goes out into the field,\nanother follows him: between the going out of both there is succession,\nbut there may be no causality. The two phenomena, whether considered\nobjectively in themselves, or subjectively, as known by us, are\nconnected by the relation of succession, but not by that of causality.\nThere is as great a difference in philosophy as in ordinary language\nbetween _post_ and _propter_, _after_ and _because_ of. The same is\ntrue in purely internal phenomena. I think of a question of philosophy,\nand then pass to a literary question: the two thoughts are successive,\nbut one is not the cause of the other.\n\n90. The relation of causality is not the connection of the ideas of\nthings. The representations of A and B may be strongly connected in\nour mind without our even thinking of the relation of causality. We\nhave seen in a place a scene which made a profound impression on us;\never afterwards the remembrance of the place recalls the scene, and\nthe recollection of the scene reminds us of the place; here we find\ntwo internal representations strongly connected, without our therefore\nattributing to the objects the relation of causality. We know that two\npersons arrive at the same place and without the coming of the one\ninfluencing the coming of the other. The idea of the coming of the\none will be associated in the mind with the idea of the coming of the\nother. There will then be a connection of representations, although we\ndeny to the objects the relation of causality.\n\n91. Although the connection of the ideas in our understanding may,\nin consequence of a constant experience, be such that one is always\npreceded by the other, as the conditioned is by the condition, this\nis not enough for true causality. An observer may have remarked the\ncorrespondence of the ebb and flow of the tide with the motion of the\nmoon; but whether for reasons of philosophy, or because it has never\noccurred to him that the motion of the moon could influence the motion\nof the sea, he considers these phenomena entirely independent of one\nanother, although he may try hard to explain so strange a coincidence.\nIn the mind of this observer the two phenomena will be always joined,\nin such a way that the phenomenon of the moon will always be that of\nthe ebb and flow, without its being possible to invert the order and\nmake the ebb and flow precede the motion of the moon. Here then is a\nnecessary priority in an idea, and yet true causality is not attributed\nto the object.\n\n92. There is a fact in the history of philosophy which proves with the\ngreatest evidence the truth of what I have just said. This fact is the\nsystem of occasional causes maintained by eminent philosophers. If a\nbody, they say, strike another body at rest, it will communicate to it\nits motion; but this communication does not imply a true causality, but\nthat the motion of the impinging body is a mere occasion of the motion\nof the body impinged. Here then a thing is conceived as a necessary\ncondition of the existence of another, and yet it is denied that there\nis between them the relation of causality. In thinking of the two\nphenomena we cannot invert the order, and conceive the motion of the\nbody impinged as the condition of the motion of the impinging body,\nyet we can deny the relation of causality between the condition and\nthe conditioned. Therefore the idea of causality represents something\nbesides the necessary order of things among themselves.\n\n93. This brings us to a new phasis of the question. Is the relation of\ncausality faithfully represented in the conditional proposition: if\nA exists, B will exist? The connection expressed by this proposition\nis not the relation of causality. If the fruit-tree N flourishes in a\ncertain country, M will flourish. A constant experience proves it. The\nconditional proposition in this case does not express the relation of\ncausality of the flourishing of N with respect to the flourishing of\nM; yet the proposition is true. One phenomenon may be the sign of the\nimmediate approach of another, without being its cause.\n\n94. Conditional propositions, in which the existence of one object\nis affirmed as the condition of the existence of another, express a\nconnection; but this may not be a connection of the objects with each\nother, but with a third. If a gentleman's servant goes to a place, and\nthen another servant of the same gentleman goes to the same place, the\ncause of the going of the second may not be the going of the first, but\nsimply that their master wished them to go one after the other. The\ncrops in one field indicate the state of the crops of another field,\nand this indication may be expressed by a conditional proposition.\nWhy so? Is it on account of the causality of the crops in one field\nin relation to those in another? Certainly not; but because the\ncircumstances of the climate and the soil produce a sufficiently fixed\norder between them to verify the conditional proposition, without the\nintervention of the idea of the causality of one in relation to the\nother.\n\n95. There are many cases in which the relation between the condition\nis necessary, and yet the condition neither is, nor can be, the\ncause of the conditioned. We are here treating of efficient cause,\nof that which gives being to the thing, and it would often be absurd\nto attribute this kind of causality to conditions which on the other\nside are necessarily connected with the conditioned. Take away the\npillar on which a body rests, and the body will fall; the connection of\nthe condition with the conditioned, or of the taking away the pillar\nwith the fall of the body is necessary; the proposition in which this\nconnection is expressed is true and necessary in the natural order;\nand still it cannot be said that the removal of the pillar is the\n_efficient_ cause of the fall of the body.\n\n96. Even a purely occasional connection is all that is necessary for\nthe truth of the conditional proposition; and no one ever confounds\nthe occasion with the cause. In the present example, the body cannot\nfall unless the pillar is removed; and it must necessarily fall if it\nis removed; but the cause of the fall is not in the removal of the\npillar, but in the weight of the body, as is evident if we suppose the\nspecific gravity of the body to be equal to that of the fluid in which\nit is submerged, since in that case, the removal of the pillar is not\nfollowed by the fall of the body.\n\n97. Causality cannot express a necessary relation of the condition to\nthe conditioned, unless we deny all free causes. Supposing the idea of\ncausality to be correctly expressed in this proposition: if A exists,\nB will exist; by substituting God and the world for A and B, it will\nbecome: if God exists the world will exist; which would lead us into\nthe error of the necessity of the creation. By substituting man and\ndeterminate actions for A and B, we shall have the proposition: if man\nexists, his determinate actions will exist, which implies necessity,\nand destroys free will.\n\n98. Here arises the question: would the relation of causality be\ncorrectly expressed by a conditional proposition, taken in an inverse\nsense, or with the effect, as the condition and the cause as the\nconditioned, (not conditioned in the order of existence, but only as\na thing necessarily supposed,) that is, if, instead of saying: if A\nexists, B will exist, we say: if B exists, A exists? In this case, the\nproposition may be applied even to the dependence of creatures on God,\nand in general of all free actions on their causes; for we can say with\ntruth: if the world exists, God exists; if there is a free action,\nthere is a free agent.\n\n99. Although at first sight this seems to explain the relation of\ncausality, this new formula cannot be regarded as correct. For, though\nit is true in general, that if there is an effect there is a cause,\nit is also certain that oftentimes one thing supposes another, not\nas its cause, but as a mere occasion, as a condition _sine qua non_;\nwhich is far from being true causality. Supposing the body supported\nby the pillar to be so placed that it cannot fall unless the pillar\nis removed, we might form the conditional proposition: if the body\nhas fallen, the pillar has been taken away; the proposition is true,\nalthough the removal of the pillar is not the efficient cause of the\nfall of the body.\n\n100. God could have so created the world that creatures would have no\ntrue action of causality upon one another, and yet have so arranged\nthem that the phenomena would correspond with each other in the same\nmanner as they now do. This is the opinion of defenders of the doctrine\nof occasional causes, and to this is reduced the _pre-established\nharmony_ of Leibnitz, according to which all the monads constituting\nthe universe are like so many clocks, which, though independent of one\nanother, agree with admirable exactness. On this hypothesis we might\nform infinite conditional propositions expressing the correspondence of\nthe phenomena without the idea of causality entering into any of them.\n\n101. From what has been said we must infer that this idea is something\ndistinct from the necessary connection, and that it is not correctly\nexpressed in all its purity by the relation contained in the\nconditional propositions, whether the cause be taken as the condition\nor as the conditioned. The dependence of the effect on its cause is\nsomething more than the simple connection. To say that whatever is\nnecessarily connected, even successively and in a fixed order, is\nconnected by the relation of causality, is to confound the ideas of\ncommon language as well as those of philosophy.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX.\n\nNECESSARY AND SUFFICIENT CONDITIONS OF TRUE ABSOLUTE CAUSALITY.\n\n\n102. We have just seen that the necessary connection of two objects is\nnot enough to establish the character of causality; what circumstances\nare then necessary?\n\n103. If we conceive an object, B, which begins, and suppose that the\nobject A was _necessary_ to its existence, and that _of itself alone_\nit was sufficient for the existence of B, we find in the relation of\nA to B the true character of the relation of a cause to its effect.\nFor the complete character of _absolute_ cause, two conditions are\nindispensable: I. The necessity of the existence of A for the existence\nof B. II. That the existence of A be sufficient for the existence of B,\nwithout any thing more being requisite.\n\nThese conditions may be expressed in the following propositions or\nformulas:\n\nIf B exists, A exists.\n\nThe existence of A alone is sufficient for the existence of B.\n\nWhen the relation between two objects is such that both these\npropositions are true at the same time, there is a relation of absolute\ncausality.\n\n104. From this explanation it is evident that the character of cause\nmust be denied to all mere occasions, since the second proposition\ncannot be applied to them. When two facts are occasionally connected,\nit may be said that if the one exists the other must exist, and the\nfirst proposition is verified in this case; but it cannot be said that\nthe existence of the one is sufficient for the existence of the other;\nand therefore the second proposition fails of its application. If two\nmen have agreed that the one shall fire a pistol when the other gives\na signal with his hand, it may be said that if the signal is given the\npistol will be fired, but not that the signal alone contains what is\nsufficient for the firing of the pistol. For, supposing the man with\nthe pistol to be asleep, the signal may be repeated a number of times\nwithout the firing of the pistol.\n\n105. The character of cause must also be denied to every condition\nwhich is only the removal of an obstacle (_removens prohibens_). To\nsuch the first proposition is applicable, but not the second. In the\ncase of a body resting on a pillar so that it cannot fall unless the\npillar be removed, we may say: if the body has fallen, the pillar has\nbeen taken away; but not that the removal of the pillar is sufficient\nfor the fall of the body; because if the body were of a less specific\ngravity than the fluid in which it is submerged, or united to another\nbody which would prevent its falling, it would not fall. It is evident\nthat the removal of the obstacle is not sufficient for the fall, but\nthat something more is required, as the force of gravity, or an impulse.\n\n106. All phenomena connected in succession of time necessarily and in\na fixed order, must be denied the relation of cause and effect, unless\nthe application of these ideas is made legitimate by something else;\nbecause, although the constant order authorizes us to say that if A\nhappens, B will happen, and then C, and then D, and so on successively,\nit cannot be said that in the existence of A is contained that which is\nsufficient for the existence of B, nor in the existence of B what is\nsufficient for the existence of C, since we suppose an indispensable\ncondition outside of the series.\n\n107. The first proposition: if B exists, A exists; is true of every\ncause whether necessary or free. The second proposition is likewise\napplicable to both these classes of causes. It is necessary to observe\nwith care that the proposition does not say that if A exists, B will\nexist; but that the existence of A is all that is requisite in order\nthat B _may_ exist. If, supposing A, B is necessarily supposed also,\nthe cause is necessary; but if, supposing A, only that which is\nsufficient for the existence of B is supposed, the cause remains free;\nbecause the existence of B is not affirmed, but only the possibility of\nits existence.\n\n108. Let us apply this doctrine to the first cause. If the world\nexists, God exists: this proposition is absolutely true. If God exists,\nthe world exists; this proposition is false, because, God existing,\nthe world might not have existed. If God exists, the world may exist;\nthat is, in the existence of God is contained that which is sufficient\nfor the possibility of the existence of the world: this proposition\nis true; because in the infinite being is contained the possibility\nof finite beings, and in him is found sufficient power to give them\nexistence, if he thus freely wills it.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X.\n\nSECONDARY CAUSALITY.\n\n\n109. In determining in the last chapter the conditions of true\ncausality, I spoke only of _absolute_ causality; the reason of this,\nwhich I shall now explain, turns on the difference between the first\ncause and second causes.\n\n110. We have seen that the pure idea of absolute causality is the\nperception of three conditions: the necessity of one thing for the\nexistence of another; the sufficiency of the first alone for the\nexistence of the second; and lastly (when the cause is free) the act\nof the will necessary for the production of the effect. These three\nconditions are fulfilled absolutely in the first cause, since nothing\ncan exist unless God exists; and for the existence of any object\nthe existence of God, with the free will of creating the object, is\nsufficient. It is evident that causality cannot be applied in the\nsame sense to second causes; of none of them can it be said that its\nexistence is absolutely necessary for the existence of the effect,\nsince God could have produced it either by means of another secondary\nagent, or immediately by himself; neither is its existence alone\nsufficient for the existence of the effect, since whatever exists\npresupposes and requires the existence of the first cause.\n\n111. Thus, then, the idea of causality applied to God has a very\ndifferent meaning from that which it has when applied to second causes:\nit is necessary to bear this in mind, and not to raise questions\nconcerning second causes before the meaning of the word _cause_ is\nstrictly defined. It is certain that the relation of an effect to its\ncause is a relation of dependence; but we have seen that the words\ndependence, connection, condition, etc., are susceptible of different\nmeanings; if they are not clearly and strictly determined it is\nimpossible to give any solution to these questions.\n\n112. What then is meant by secondary causality? After the observations\nwhich we have made, it is not difficult to say. In the order of created\nbeings A will be the cause of B when the following conditions are\nfulfilled.\n\nI. That the existence of A is necessary (according to the order\nestablished) for the existence of B; which may be expressed by this\nformula: if B exists, A exists or has existed.\n\nII. That in the order established B and A form a series which goes back\nto the first cause, without the concurrence of the terms of any other\nseries being requisite.\n\nThis last condition will not, perhaps, be understood, unless explained\nby some examples.\n\n113. The motion of my pen is the effect of the motion of my hand; here\nI have the true relation of secondary causality, for I pass through\na series of conditions, which do not require the conditions of any\nother series: the motion of the pen depends on the motion of my hand;\nthat of my hand depends on the animal spirits (or whatever cause\nphysiologists may please to assign); that of the animal spirits depends\non the command of my will; and my will depends on God, who created it,\nand preserves it. I here find a series of second causes to which I\ngive the true character of causality, in so far as it can exist in a\nsecondary order; and the efficient cause, the principal among secondary\ncauses is my will; because in the secondary order of it is the first\nterm of the series. The motion of the pen of my secretary depends on\nmy will, not however as its true efficient cause, but as its occasion;\nbecause in the secretary is found the same series as in the former\nexample: the first term of this series is his will, which I cannot\nabsolutely determine, since being free, it determines itself. There is\ntrue efficient causality in the will of the secretary; because there\nends the series whose first term is at my disposal only in an improper\nsense, that is to say, so long as the secretary pleases.\n\n114. The body, A, in motion strikes upon the body, B at rest: the\nmotion of the body A is the cause of the motion of the body B, and the\ncausality will be found in all the terms of the series, that is, in\nall the motions whose successive communication has been necessary in\norder that the motion might reach the body B. Let us suppose that in\nthe series of these communications obstacles have been removed which\nimpeded the communication of the motion; the removal of the obstacles\nis an indispensable condition on the supposition that they existed,\nbut it is not a true cause, since it is a term foreign to the series\nof the communications, and might not have existed, without the motion\ntherefore ceasing to exist. For, supposing there had been no obstacles,\nthey would not have been removed, and yet the motion would have been\ncommunicated. But it is not the same with respect to the terms which\nform the series of the communications; for if we represent them by A.\nB. C. D. E. F. . . . . . . . . . the motion of A cannot reach F if one\nof the intermediate bodies serving as the vehicle of the communication\nbe taken away.\n\n115. From this theory it follows that the idea of secondary causality\nrepresents a concatenation of various objects forming a series, which\nterminates in the first cause, whether by a necessary order, as in the\nphenomena of corporeal nature, or by the medium of a first term in the\nsecondary order with a determination of its own, as is the case in\nthings which depend on free will.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI.\n\nFUNDAMENTAL EXPLANATION OF THE ORIGIN OF THE OBSCURITY OF IDEAS IN WHAT\nRELATES TO CAUSALITY.\n\n\n116. It may be asked, of what nature is this connection of the terms of\nthe series; _how_ one communicates with another; _what_ it is which is\ncommunicated; by virtue _of what quality_ they are placed in relation.\nAll these questions arise from a confusion of ideas which has been the\noccasion of interminable disputes. In order to avoid them we must\nremember the difference between intuitive and discursive knowledge,\nand between determinate and indeterminate, intuitive and not-intuitive\nideas, as explained in its proper place.[82]\n\n[82] See Bk. IV., Chaps. XI., XIII., XIV., XV., XVI., XIX., XX., XXI., and\nXXII.\n\n117. I there said[83] that the pure intellect may exercise its\nfunctions by indeterminate ideas, or those representing general\nrelations which are not applied to any real or possible object, until\na determination furnished by experience is added to them.[84] The idea\nof cause is indeterminate;[85] and, consequently, taken in general, it\ncannot be presented to us without the relation of being and not-being,\nor of beings united among themselves by a certain necessity, but in\nan absolute indeterminate manner.[86] Therefore the idea of cause\nis not enough to determine the character of this activity and its\nmeans of communication; this idea by itself can tell us nothing of\nthe particular; it can only teach us certain truths _a priori_; the\napplication of these truths to beings rests on experience.\n\n[83] See Bk. IV., Chap. XXI.\n\n[84] Ib., \u00a7 135.\n\n[85] Ib., \u00a7 134.\n\n[86] Ib., \u00a7 130.\n\n118. I said[87] that our intuition is confined to passive sensibility,\nactive sensibility, intelligence, and will; whatever lies outside\nof this sphere we can know only by indeterminate conceptions, and,\nconsequently, it is impossible for us to expose to the intuition of\nanother that which we feel to be wanting to our own. We may develop\nthis doctrine farther by applying it to the philosophical questions on\ncausality.\n\n[87] Ib., Chap. XXII.\n\n119. There have been great disputes as to whether bodies exercise a\ntrue action on each other; and those who hold the negative are always\nasking, _how_ one body can cause any thing in another? _what_ that\nis which is transmitted, and what is the _character_ of its active\nquality? Various replies have been made; but I greatly doubt if it\nis possible to make any which is satisfactory, without considering\nthe doctrine which I have just explained,--what answer, then, can\nbe made? It is this: we know nothing intuitively of bodies except\npassive sensibility, which, in the last result, is only extension\nwith its various modifications.[88] Now these modifications are\nreduced to figure and motion; whatever would make us depart from\nthese two intuitions, requiring an explanation with characteristic\ndeterminations, would ask for that which is beyond the power of man.\nThe limits of our intuition on this point are confined to extension and\nmotion, and their relations to our sensibility; we must, therefore, be\ncontented with observing the phenomena of bodies, and subjecting them\nto calculation within the circle of this intuition: all beyond this\nis impossible. We know that the body A moves with a certain velocity,\nwhich we measure by the relation of space to time; when it arrives at\nthe place where it meets B, B moves in a corresponding direction and\nwith a corresponding velocity. Here there is a succession of phenomena\nin time and space; the phenomena are subject to constant laws, which\nare known by experience. Our intuitive cognitions go no farther; when\nwe attempt to go beyond this we find the general relations of being\nand not-being, of being _before_ and being _after_, of condition and\nconditioned, which present nothing determinate by which we can explain\nthe true character of secondary causality.\n\n[88] Ib., \u00a7 139.\n\n120. Philosophy, when treating of bodies, is limited to what is\nstrictly called physics; when it attempts to rise to the region of\nmetaphysics bodies disappear, in so far as they are phenomena subject\nto sensible observation, and there remains only the general and\nindeterminate ideas of them.\n\n121. As regards the sensitive faculty, we are in some sort passive,\ninasmuch as we receive the impressions which we call sensations.\nWhatever activity we possess in sensation does not depend on our free\nwill, supposing that we are subject to the conditions of sensibility.\nIf you put your hand in the fire it is impossible for you not to\nexperience the sensation of heat. In what regards the causality which\nwe have as to the reproduction of past sensations or the production of\nnew sensible sensations, it is vain to ask us the _manner_ in which\nwe exercise this activity: its exercise is a part of consciousness;\nall we know about it is that it exists in such or such a manner in our\nconsciousness.\n\n122. The same may be said of the elaboration of ideas. None of the\nphilosophers can explain the _manner_ of this immanent production;\nideological investigations go no farther than the characterizing and\nclassifying these phenomena and showing the order of their succession;\nthey can tell us nothing concerning the manner in which they are\nproduced.\n\n123. The exercise of the will presents to our intuition, or if you\nplease, to our consciousness, another series of phenomena, of the\nmanner of the production of which we know nothing. Consciousness\ntestifies that the free principle which exercises this activity is\nwithin us: this is all that we know about it. These phenomena are\nfound at times connected with motions of our bodies, which a constant\nexperience presents as depending on our will, but how things so\ndifferent are connected, we know not: philosophy will never know.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XII.\n\nCAUSALITY OF PURE FORCE OF THE WILL.\n\n\n124. In what does creation consist? How can God produce things from\nnothing? Such a thing is incomprehensible. This is the language of\nmany who do not reflect that the same incomprehensibility is found in\nthe exercise of secondary causality, both in the corporeal and in the\nincorporeal world. If we knew God in the intuitive manner in which,\naccording to the Catholic dogma, the blessed see him in the mansion\nof glory, we might know intuitively the manner of the creation. As\nit is, we say that in so far as we can form any idea of the action\nof the Creator, he produces all things from nothing by the force of\nhis will; which besides according with the teachings of religion, is\nin harmony with what we experience in ourselves. God wills, and the\nuniverse springs up out of nothing: how can this be understood? To him\nwho asks this, I say: man wills, and his arm rises; he wills, and his\nwhole body is in motion. How can this be understood? Here is a small,\nweak, and incomplete, but true image of the Creator: an intelligent\nbeing which wills, and a fact which appears. Where is the connection?\nIf you cannot explain it to us in so far as concerns finite beings, how\ncan you ask us to explain it with respect to the infinite being? The\nincomprehensibility of the conception of the motion of the body with\nthe force of the will does not authorize us to deny the connection;\ntherefore the incomprehensibility of the connection of a being which\nappears for the first time with the force of the infinite will cannot\nauthorize us to deny the truth of the creation: on the contrary,\nthe finding a similar thing in ourselves greatly strengthens the\nontological arguments which demonstrate its necessity. In the dogmas of\nthe Christian religion, besides what they reveal that is supernatural,\nwe find at every step philosophical truths as profound as they are\nimportant.\n\n125. The causality which relates to purely possible effects can only\nbe understood by placing it in an intelligence. The cause which does\nnot produce an effect, but which may produce it, involves a relation\nof the existent to the non-existent; the cause exists, the effect does\nnot exist; the cause does not produce it, but may produce it; what is\nthe relation of that which exists to that which does not exist? is not\na relation without a term to which it relates, a contradiction? It\nis certainly, if abstracted from the intelligence: the intelligence\nalone can relate to that which does not exist; for it can _think the\nnon-existent_. A body can have no relation to a body which does not\nexist; but an intelligence may have a relation to that which does not\nexist, even knowing that it does not exist; we may ourselves wander at\npleasure through the regions of pure possibility.\n\n126. The will also participates of this character of the intellect.\nDesire relates to an enjoyment which is not, but which may be; we will\nand will not, we love and hate things that are often purely ideal, and\nwhose identity we know perfectly well, still this does not prevent\nour willing them. Thus we desire things to happen which are not, and\nwe may even desire things which we know to be impossible. We may wish\nto recover that which we know is lost forever; we may wish for the\npresence of a friend whom we know to be at so great a distance as to\nrender his coming impossible; we may wish that time would stop or hurry\non in conformity to our wants or our caprices.\n\n127. Thus we find both the intellect and the will in relation to that\nwhich does not exist;--a relation which is not even conceivable in a\nbeing destitute of intellect. This leads to an important result. The\nabsolute beginning of any thing is not possible unless we conceive\ncausality as having its root in the intellect. That which begins\npasses from not-being to being, and how is it possible that a being\nhas produced in _another_ a transition from not-being to being, if the\nrelation to the _other_ before it existed was intrinsically impossible?\nAn intelligent being may think another although the other does not\nexist; but for an unintelligent being if the other does not exist in\n_reality_ it does not exist at all; consequently no relation to it is\npossible, any such relation that may be imagined is contradictory, and\ntherefore it is absurd to suppose that which is not to begin to be.\n\n128. This reasoning proves that in the origin of things there is\nan intelligent being, the cause of every thing, and that without\nthis intelligence nothing could have begun. If something has begun,\nsomething must have existed from all eternity; and that which began was\n_known_ by that which existed. Not admitting intelligence, beginning is\nabsurd. Imagine in the origin of things a being without intelligence,\nits relations can only be to that which exists; it can have no relation\nto the non-existent; how then is it possible for the non-existent to\nbegin to exist, through the action of the existent? In order that the\nnon-existent may begin to be, some reason is necessary; for otherwise\nthe beginning of one thing or of another, and even its beginning or\nnot-beginning would be indifferent. Unless we suppose a being which\nknows that which does not exist, and may establish, so to speak, a\ncommunication with nothing, the being which does not exist can never\nexist.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIII.\n\nACTIVITY.\n\n\n129. To understand more clearly the idea of causality, it will be\nuseful to reflect on the ideas of activity and action, as also on those\nof inertness, or inactivity, and inaction.\n\n130. An absolutely inactive being is a being without intelligence,\nwithout will, without sensibility, without any kind of consciousness,\ncontaining in itself nothing which can change its own state or that of\nany thing else.\n\nThus absolute inactivity or inertness requires the following\nconditions: I. The absolute denial of all principle, of intelligence,\nof will, of sensibility, and in general of every thing which is\naccompanied by consciousness. II. The absolute denial of all principle\nof change in itself. III. The absolute denial of all principle of\nchange in others. The union of these three conditions forms the idea of\nabsolute inactivity or inertness: the state of such a being is that of\nabsolute inaction.\n\n131. A being of this nature, regarded in general, presents only the\nidea of an existing thing: we may also consider it as a substance,\nsupposing it not to inhere as a modification in another, or rather,\nsupposing it as a substratum capable of receiving modifications by the\naction of other beings upon it.\n\nThe only means by which we can characterize to a certain extent this\ngeneral idea, so that it may be presented to our intuition, is to add\nto it the idea of extension, by which we make in some manner the idea\nof inert matter.\n\n132. After the ideas of inertness and inaction are explained, their\nopposites, the ideas of activity and action, are clearly understood.\n\nWhen we conceive a being which has the reason of its changes within\nitself, we conceive an active being.\n\nWhen we conceive a being which has within itself the reason of the\nchanges of other beings, we conceive an active being.\n\nWhen we conceive a being which knows, wills, perceives, or has\nconsciousness in any way, we conceive an active being.\n\nHence activity may represent three things to us: the origin of its own\nchanges; the origin of the changes of others; and consciousness.\n\n133. The first kind of activity can belong only to changeable beings;\nthe second also to immutable beings, which are causes; the third is\nan activity which belongs to mutable or immutable beings, abstracting\nabsolutely the idea of causality.\n\n134. The general relation of principle of its own or another's changes,\nis an indeterminate idea; consequently the only activity of which\nwe can have an intuitive idea is that of intelligence, of will, and\nin general of whatever relates to the phenomena which require the\nperception called consciousness.\n\n135. We must consider consciousness as an activity, and include in this\norder the idea of intelligence and will abstracted from all relation to\ntheir own or another's changes, unless we mean to say that God was from\nall eternity an inactive being, because he had no other action than the\nimmanent acts of knowing and willing.\n\n136. Therefore not all activity is transient, but there is a true\nimmanent activity, of which we have an intuitive knowledge in the\nphenomena of our consciousness.\n\n137. The activity which we can conceive in bodies is reduced to a\nprinciple of their own changes or those of some other being; it is\ntherefore something of which we can have no intuitive knowledge. In\nfact, we are in relation with bodies only by means of the senses, which\npresent but two orders of facts with respect to corporeal nature;\nsubjective facts, or the impressions which we experience and call\nsensations, and which we believe to emanate from the action of bodies\nupon our organs; and objective facts, that is, extension motion, and\nthe different modifications which the senses discover in extended\nthings which move. Neither the first class of facts nor the second give\nus an intuitive idea of the activity of corporeal beings.\n\nSubjective facts or sensations are immanent, that is, are in us, not\nin the things; and inasmuch as subjective tell us nothing of what is\noutside of us, but only what is within us. Even supposing sensations\nto be a true effect of the activity of bodies, this activity is not\npresented in the effect. When our hand is warmed by the fire we have\nthe intuitive perception of the sensation of heat, inasmuch as it is\nin us; if we suppose that this sensation is really an effect of the\nactivity of the fire, we know the relation of our sensation to this\nactivity considered in general, and indeterminately as the origin of\nour sensation; but we do not know the activity intuitively in itself,\nbecause as such it is not represented in our sensation.\n\nNeither do objective facts, that is, extension, motion, and whatever\nwe conceive which is not in our sensation, but in the object itself,\ngive us any intuitive idea of the activity of corporeal things. The\nmodifications of extension, or figures, motion with all its accidents,\nand in general all that presents the corporeal world to our senses, are\nthe changes themselves and their relations, but not the principle of\nthese relations or of these changes. The body A, which is in motion,\nstrikes upon the body B at rest; B after the impact begins to move:\nwithout considering whether the impact of A is the cause of the motion\nof B, that which we are certain of is, that we have no intuition of the\nactivity producing the motion. What do the senses tell us of the body\nA? They only tell us that it has moved with a certain velocity towards\nthe point M where the body B was situated. What do they tell us of the\nbody B? Only that it began to move the instant the body A reached the\npoint M: so far we have only the relations of space and time between\nthe two extended objects A and B. Where is the intuition of the\nactivity of A, and of its action on B? We see absolutely nothing of it.\nBy reasoning, by analogy, by considerations of order, of agreement, and\nsuch like, we may prove with more or less evidence that in the body A\nthere is an activity which causes the motion of the body B; but this\ngives us only an indeterminate idea, not an intuition of activity.\n\n138. These considerations are conclusive as applied to all the\nphenomena of corporeal nature. Take any one you please, select that one\nwhich leads us most strongly to imagine a true activity; analyze it\nwell, and you will find our intuition limited to relations of extension\nin space and in time.\n\nThat all bodies are heavy is a fact of experience; do we know\nintuitively the principle from which the phenomena of weight proceed?\nBy no means. Let us examine it in the subjective order and in the\nobjective. What does weight as perceived by us present to us? Only\nthat affection which we call heaviness, that is, the pressure on\nthe members of the body. What does it present objectively? Only the\ndirection of bodies towards a centre with a certain velocity depending\non circumstances. We find in all this only a purely internal fact,\nwhich is the unpleasant sensation of weight or heaviness, or the pure\nrelations of extended objects in space and time.\n\n139. The fire burns objects and reduces them to ashes; nothing could be\nbetter suited to give us the idea of activity. Still we cannot say that\nwe know it intuitively. In the subjective order we have the painful\nsensation of burning, which thus far is a purely internal fact; in the\nobjective order we have the disorganization of the bodies burnt, which\npresents to the senses only a change in the size, figure, color, and\nother qualities relative to our senses--all this may be the effect of\nthe activity, but it is not the activity itself.\n\n140. The light reflected from an object strikes our eyes, painting\non the retina the object which reflects it. Have we in this case an\nintuition of the activity of light. Not at all. In the subjective order\nwe find the sensation called _seeing_; in the objective order, we find\nthe size, figure, and other qualities of the object in space. If we\nconsider the light itself, we find a fluid whose rays have this or that\ndirection in subjection to determinate laws, but we have no intuitive\nknowledge of its activity; and in order to persuade ourselves that the\nactivity exists, we reason from principles which are not within the\nsphere of our intuition.\n\n141. The four intuitions of passive sensibility, active sensibility,\nintelligence, and will, may be reduced to two:[89] extension and\nconsciousness; including in extension all its modifications, and in\nconsciousness all the internal phenomena of a sensitive or intellectual\nbeing; in so far as they have the common ground of consciousness.\nWe therefore know intuitively two modes of being: consciousness and\nextension; consciousness is within us, it is a subjective fact;\nextension is external, its existence is revealed by sensations,\nparticularly those of sight and touch.\n\n[89] See Book IV., Ch. XXII.\n\n142. The classification of these two intuitions is important\nbeyond measure for the distinction of the active from the inert. In\nconsciousness we find a type of true activity; in extension, as such,\nwe have a type of true inertness. In thinking of consciousness, we\nthink of something active without adding any other idea; when we think\nof extension, it presents to us the image of a thing susceptible of\nvarious modifications, the principle of none of which is contained in\nextension; in order to think of a corporeal activity we have to go out\nof the pure idea of extension, and consider a principle of change in\ngeneral, which is not the object of the intuition of the extended.\n\n143. Thus the only activity which we know intuitively is that of\nconsciousness; for we have only indeterminate ideas of corporeal\nactivity. The words action, reaction, force, resistance, impulse,\nexpress only indeterminate relations, and represent something fixed and\ndeterminate, only in their effects. Mechanists express forces by lines\nor numbers, that is, by results subject to calculation. Even Newton, in\nestablishing his system of universal attraction, declares his ignorance\nof the immediate cause of the phenomenon, and confines himself to\nassigning the laws to which the motions of bodies are subjected.\n\n144. Activity in changeable beings represents a principle of their own\nand others' changes, a sort of superabundance of being which constantly\ndevelops itself, and, in proportion as it is developed, perfects\nitself. We find an example of this development in our own mind. The\nchild at its birth receives in a confused manner the impressions of all\nthat surrounds it. By the repetition of these impressions its activity\nis developed; that which was obscure becomes clear, the confusion is\nput into order, that which was feeble becomes strong, thought arises,\ncomparison begins, reflection is unfolded, and the being which was\ntorpid and almost inert becomes perhaps a genius which astonishes the\nworld. Materials have come to it from without, but of what use would\nthey have been without that living fire of activity which transformed\nthem and deduced from them new and valuable products? The same\nphenomena of nature are presented to the eyes of brute animals as to\nKepler or Newton; but what for the first is only a sensible impression\nis for the latter a starting-point of sublime and wonderful theories.\n\n145. The active being possesses virtually the perfections which it is\nto acquire; it may be compared to the acorn which contains the mighty\noak, whose development depends on circumstances of soil and climate. On\nthe other hand, the inactive being can give itself nothing; it has a\nstate, and it preserves it till some other changes it; and it remains\nin this new state until another action from without takes it away and\ncommunicates another.\n\n146. Activity is a principle of its own or another's changes; this\nactivity may operate in two ways: with intelligence and without it.\nWhen the being is intelligent its inclination to that which is known\nis called will. The will is inclined to the object necessarily or not\nnecessarily: in the first case, it is a necessary spontaneity; in the\nsecond, it is a free spontaneity. Liberty, then, does not consist\nsolely in the absence of coaction; it requires the absence of all, even\nspontaneous, necessity; the will must be able to will or not will the\nobject; if this condition is wanting there is no freewill.\n\n147. It is worthy of remark that our intuition of the external relates\nonly to the inactive, to extension; and that internal intuition\nrelates principally to activity, to consciousness. By the first we\nknow a substratum of changes, since all change seems to take place in\nextension; by the second we know no subject intuitively, but only the\nchanges themselves. We prove the unity of their subject by reasoning,\nbut we do not see it intuitively.[90] Extension, as such, is presented\nto us as simply passive: consciousness, as such, is always active; for,\neven in those cases in which it is most passive, as in sensations,\nin so far as there is consciousness, it implies activity; for by it\nthe subject gives itself an account, explicitly or implicitly, of the\naffection experienced.\n\n[90] See Bk. IX., Chs. VI., VII., IX., and XI.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIV.\n\nPOSSIBILITY OF THE ACTIVITY OF BODIES.\n\n\n148. Having marked the limits of our intuitive knowledge with respect\nto causality and activity, it is easy to answer the objections against\nsecondary causality, which arise from confounding intuitive and\nindeterminate ideas; but we have still to examine whether there are\ntrue second causes, that is, whether there really is in finite beings\na principle of their own and others' changes. Some philosophers,\namong others the illustrious Malebranche, have denied the efficacy of\nsecond causes, thus reducing them to mere occasions. The author of the\n_Investigation de la V\u00e9rit\u00e9_ goes so far as to maintain that secondary\ncausality not only does not exist, but is impossible.\n\n149. The universe contains two classes of beings,--immaterial beings,\nand corporeal beings: each presents difficulties which it will be well\nto examine separately. Let us begin with matter. It is said that matter\nis incapable of all activity, that its essence is indifferent to every\nthing, susceptible of any sort of modification. I cannot discover on\nwhat this general proposition is founded, nor do I see how it is\npossible to prove it either by reason or by experience.\n\n150. In order to maintain that matter is completely inactive, or\nincapable of any activity, it would be necessary to know its essence;\nbut this we do not know. By what right do we deny the possibility of\nan attribute when we are ignorant of the nature of the object to which\nit should belong, when we do not know even one of its properties to\nwhich this attribute is repugnant? It is true that we deny to matter\nthe possibility of thought, and even of sensation; but we can do so\nonly because we know enough of matter, to establish this impossibility.\nIn matter, whatever may be its intrinsic essence, there are parts,\nconsequently there is multiplicity; and the facts of consciousness\nnecessarily require a being which is one and simple.[91]\n\n[91] See Bk. IX.\n\nIt is not the same with respect to activity; for activity, when it\ndoes not present the intuitive idea of consciousness, gives us only\nthe indeterminate conception of a principle of changes in itself or\nin other beings. This does not contradict the idea of multiplicity.\nSuppose bodies in motion to have a true activity which really produces\nmotion in others, there is no contradiction in this activity being\ndistributed among the different parts of the other body, which at the\nmoment of impact produce their respective effects, causing motion in\nthe parts of the other body with which they come in contact.\n\n151. Consequently, examining the question _a priori_, or considering\nthe idea of body, we can find no reason for denying the possibility of\nits being active. It is true that the extension of bodies, inasmuch as\nextension, is presented to us as something without life, indifferent\nto all figures and to all motions, and that we do not discover in it\nany principle of activity;[92] but this can prove nothing, unless we\nsuppose that the essence of bodies consists in extension, and that\nextension contains nothing more than is presented to our senses, that\nit includes nothing on which its activity can be founded. The first is\nan opinion, but one without any foundation; the second can never be\ndemonstrated, because it escapes all observation, and cannot be the\nobject of investigations _a priori_.\n\n[92] See Ch. XIII.\n\n152. How can it be proved that the essence of bodies consists in\nextension?[93] What we may say is, that we experience it, and that all\ncorporeal nature is presented to us under the form of extended. If we\nassert any thing more than this we do so without any foundation, we\nsubstitute for the reality a play of our fancy. The essence of any\nthing is that which constitutes it what it is, that which serves as\nthe internal ground or root of the properties: who can say that we\nknow this ground, this root, in corporeal objects? Our senses, it is\ntrue, perceive nothing not extended: we cannot conceive to what bodies\nwould be reduced if deprived of extension; but from this we can only\ninfer that extension is a form under which bodies are presented to our\nsenses; that this form is a necessary condition of the affection of our\nsensibility; but not that the form is the essence of the thing, not\nthat there is in the object nothing more intimate in which the form\nitself has its root.\n\n[93] See Bk. III.\n\n153. If the essence of bodies consisted in extension, such as it\nappears to our senses, extension being equal there would be equality\nof essence; the essences of bodies might be measured like their\ndimensions; two globes of equal diameters, would be two essentially\nequal bodies. Experience, and even common sense are opposed to this. It\nmay be said, that pure dimension, in so far as subject to measure, is\nnot enough to form equality of essence; but that the equality of nature\nof the extension of both bodies is also requisite; but what, I ask,\nis the meaning of the _nature_ of extension? If the word nature here\nmeans any thing, it must mean something distinct from extension, in\nso far as subject to our sensibility; in which case I infer that just\nas in order to diversify the essences of bodies something is imagined\nwhich is not contained in extension in so far as subject to sensible\nintuition, something may in the same manner be supposed which is\ncapable of activity, and which offers to our understanding an accessory\nidea giving life, so to speak, to the dead matter which we find in\nextension, considered as the simple object of purely geometrical ideas.\n\n154. Experience cannot demonstrate the impossibility of the activity\nof bodies. Absolute inactivity cannot affect us, and therefore cannot\nbe known by experience. We can only experience action, or the exercise\nof activity; inaction, or the state of an absolutely inactive thing,\ncannot be the object of experience without a contradiction.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XV.\n\nCONJECTURES AS TO THE EXISTENCE OF CORPOREAL ACTIVITY.\n\n\n155. Experience, far from authorizing us to infer the absolute\ninertness of bodies, on the contrary inclines us to believe that they\nare endowed with activity. Although the senses do not give us intuition\nof any corporeal activity, they present a continuous series of changes\nin a fixed order in the phenomena of the corporeal world; and if the\ntrue activity of some on others can be inferred from the coincidence\nof their relations in space and time, from the constant succession in\nwhich we see some follow others, and the invariable experience that the\nexistence of some suffices for the existence of others; then we must\nadmit true activity in bodies. Whatever this argument may be worth at\nthe tribunal of metaphysics, it has always been sufficiently powerful\nto convince the majority of mankind, and hence it is that the denial of\nthe activity of bodies is contrary to common sense.\n\n156. If we consider our relations to the corporeal world, we are\nequally led to believe that there is true activity in bodies. Whatever\nmay be our ignorance of the manner in which sensations are produced\nwithin us, it is certain that we experience them in the presence of\nbodies which are connected with us in space and time, and in a fixed\nand constant order, which authorizes us to prognosticate with safety\nwhat will follow in our senses if such or such bodies are placed in\nrelation with our organs. The idea of activity presents to us the idea\nof a principle of changes in other beings; bodies are continually\nproducing real or apparent changes in us. The exercise of the sensitive\nfaculties implies a communication with corporeal beings; in this\ncommunication the sensitive being receives from bodies a multitude of\nimpressions causing continual changes.\n\n157. It is said that experience shows bodies to be indifferent to rest\nor motion, and some works on physics at the very beginning lay it down\nas a thing beyond all doubt, that a body placed at rest would remain in\nthe same state for all eternity, and if put in motion it would move for\nall eternity in a right line, and always with the same velocity which\nit at first received. I do not know how they could have learned this\nfrom experience; and I maintain that not only they could not know it,\nbut experience seems to prove directly the contrary.\n\n158. Where was there ever a body that was indifferent to rest or\nmotion? In all terrestrial bodies we find a tendency to motion, if no\nother, at least that of gravitation towards the centre of the earth.\nCelestial bodies, so far as our observation extends, are all in motion;\ncalculation agrees with experience in showing them to be subject to\nuniversal attraction: where, then, is the indifference to rest or\nmotion, revealed by experience? We should rather say that experience\nreveals a general inclination of bodies to be in motion.\n\n159. It would be objected that this inclination does not flow from\nany activity in the bodies, but that it is a simple effect of a law\nimposed by the Creator. Let it be so: but at least do not tell us that\nexperience presents bodies as indifferent to motion or rest; explain\nmotion, if you will, without activity, maintain that there is no\nactivity, despite the appearances of experience; but do not tell us\nthat these appearances show the absence of activity.\n\n160. If I place a body on my table, it remains at rest, I find it there\nthe next day, and if I return after many years I still find it there.\nBut this body is not indifferent to motion or rest; here it is at rest,\nbut it is continually exercising its activity, as is evident from its\npressure on the table which supports it. This exercise is incessant,\nit is experienced at every moment; try to raise it and it offers\nresistance, take away the table and it falls, place your hand under\nit and it will press upon your hand, and it changes the form of soft\nbodies on which it rests.\n\n161. To say that the attraction of the centre of the earth acts upon\nthe body, proves nothing against corporeal activity but rather confirms\nit; for this centre is another body, and thus you take activity from\none body to give it to another. Moreover, all observations show that\nattraction is mutual, and therefore attractive activity is a property\nof all bodies.\n\n162. The corporeal world, far from appearing to us as an inert mass,\npresents the appearance of an activity developing its colossal forces.\nThe mass of bodies which move in space is colossal; the orbit which\nthey describe is colossal; their velocity is colossal; the influence,\nat least apparent, which they exercise upon each other, is colossal;\nthe distance at which they communicate is colossal. Where is the want\nof activity revealed by experience? Rays of light inundate space,\nproducing in sensitive beings the wonderful phenomena of sight: rays\nof heat extend in all directions, and motion and life spring up on\nall sides; where is the want of activity revealed by experience? Do\nnot the vegetation which covers our globe, the phenomena of life\nwhich we experience within us, and in the animals around us, require\na continual motion of matter, an ebb and flow, so to speak, of action\nand reaction of bodies on each other, in reality or in appearance? Do\nnot the phenomena of electricity, of magnetism, of galvanism, appear\nto be principles of great activity, the origin of motion wherever they\nexist, rather than objects indifferent to motion or rest? The ideas of\nactivity, of force, of impulse, are not alone suggested to us by our\ninternal activity, but also by the experience of the corporeal world,\nwhich displays before our eyes, and in obedience to constant laws, a\ncontinual variety of magnificent scenes, whose origin seems to indicate\na fund of activity surpassing all calculations.\n\n163. With how little reason then do you appeal to experience to combat\nthe existence of causality in bodies, and how much more in accordance\nwith experience are those philosophers who give a true activity to\nbodies, is apparent from what I have said. In assigning the limits of\nour intuition in relation to causality and activity in themselves,[94]\nI said enough to show that I do not judge it possible to demonstrate\nmetaphysically the existence of activity in the corporeal world; yet I\ncannot but insist that if the constant relation of phenomena in space\nand time, and the invariable succession of some things after others,\nprove any thing in favor of causality, we must admit the opinion which\nholds that there is true activity in bodies; that in a secondary order\nthe reason of the changes of some is contained in others; and that\nconsequently there is in the corporeal world a chain of second causes\nwhich reaches back to the first cause, the origin and the reason of all\nthat is.\n\n[94] See Chs. XI. and XIII.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVI.\n\nINTERNAL CAUSALITY.\n\n\n164. Consciousness reveals the existence of a faculty within us which\nproduces certain internal phenomena. If we concentrate our attention\nby means of a free act of our will, we experience the production of\nimages and ideas. The works of the imagination are an irrefutable proof\nof our internal activity. Sensations furnish the materials; but the\nfancy builds edifices with them. Who, if not ourselves, gave them their\nnew form? We must confess that if we are absolutely without activity,\nnature completely deludes us, making us believe that we are active.\n\nOur recollections offer another proof of true activity. We propose\nto think of a country which we have visited, and wish to recollect\nits details; at the command of the will the imagination is aroused\nand displays to our intuition the scenes which we once saw. But these\nimages already existed, it will be said, and it was only necessary to\nawaken them; but it cannot be said that they existed in act, for we\nhad no actual consciousness of them; and the command of our will was\nnecessary and sufficient in order to force them to reappear. This new\npresence adds something to our habitual state, and is produced within\nus by the mere act of the will.\n\nIt is true that we do not know the manner of this production; but it\nis certain that consciousness assures us that it immediately follows\nan act of our will; and we have, to say the least, a strong proof that\nthere is in us a force which produces the transition of these images\nfrom their habitual to an actual state. The same may be said of all\nrecollections; and if we often find that we cannot recollect all that\nwe wish to, this only proves that our active faculties are limited by\ncertain conditions from which they cannot free themselves.\n\n165. Without considering recollections, every one knows how ideas are\nelaborated in meditation. Our ideas are not the same when we begin to\nreflect on any subject, as after we have meditated for a long time\non it. Sometimes without the assistance obtained by reading any new\nwork or hearing any new observation, by the mere force of our own\nreflection we have made clear and distinct what was before only a\nconfused idea. To say that the new ideas are the result of others which\nalready existed in our mind only proves that our understanding has\na true activity; for this result, whatever its origin, is something\nnew, it produces a new state in the soul, since it now knows perfectly\nwhat before it either knew not at all, or only in a confused manner.\nThe relations of the sub-secant to the secant, and of the sub-tangent\nto the tangent, are geometrical ideas within the reach of the most\nordinary intellects: so also are the similarity of the triangles which\nare imagined for the purpose of comparing lines with each other, and\nthe successive approximation of the sub-secant to the sub-tangent, and\nof the secant to the tangent; but to reduce those elements to the point\nwhere the wonderful theory of infinitesimal calculus shines forth with\nthe strongest light, an immense distance has to be passed over. Shall\nwe say that those geniuses who first crossed over this distance thought\nnothing new, because they already had the elements from the combination\nof which this theory results?\n\n166. If this productive activity is clearly seen in any phenomena, it\nis certainly in the acts of freewill. What becomes of freedom, if the\nsoul does not produce its volitions? Freedom means nothing, if they\nare only phenomena produced by another being, in which the soul has no\nother part than that it is the subject in which they are produced. It\nis a contradiction to say that the soul is free, and at the same time\ndeny that it is the principle of its determinations.\n\n167. Mere intelligence, even mere sensibility, and in general, every\nphenomenon implying consciousness, seems to be the exercise of an\nactivity; and in this sense I have shown[95] that we have intuition of\nan internal activity. If to know, to will, to have consciousness of\na sensation, are not _actions_, I know not where the type of a true\naction can be found. To perceive a thing, to will it, the imperative\nact of the will which makes me seek the means of obtaining it, are\nundoubtedly actions; and action is the exercise of activity. The\nidea of life represents activity in its most perfect degree; and\namong the phenomena of life, the most perfect are those which imply\nconsciousness; if we do not call these actions, we must say that we\nhave no idea of action or of activity.\n\n[95] SeeCh. XII.\n\nAlthough we do not know the manner of the production, we are conscious\nof it, we have intuition of the action in itself. When we see a bodily\nmotion we behold a passive modification; but when we experience within\nourselves the phenomena of consciousness, we behold an action, and\nconsequently have an intuition of our activity.\n\n168. Here an objection arises. If internal phenomena are truly actions,\nwhy are they so often independent of our will? We suffer despite\nourselves; ideas come upon us which we would fain cast off; thoughts\narise so quickly and spontaneously as to seem rather inspirations than\nthe fruit of labor. Where in such cases is the activity? Are we not\nforced to say that these phenomena are wholly passive?\n\n169. This objection, apparently so conclusive, proves nothing against\ninternal activity. In the first place, we might answer that the soul\nbeing passive in some cases, does not prove that it is so in all;\nand that in order to affirm the existence of internal activity, we\nrequire only certain phenomena to be produced by it. But it is not even\nnecessary to admit that activity is not found in the cases proposed by\nthe objection; for, if we carefully examine them, we shall find that\neven there the soul exercises a true activity.\n\nThe force of the objection rests on the appearance within us of certain\nphenomena without the concurrence of our will, and at times in spite of\nit; but this only leads us to infer that there are other functions in\nthe soul independent of freewill without obliging us to believe that\nthese functions are not active. With this observation the difficulty at\nonce disappears. There are within us certain phenomena which we neither\nwilled before nor after they appeared; so far I concede. Therefore\nthere are within us phenomena in which the soul is purely passive; this\nI deny. The consequence is illegitimate; all that could logically be\ndeduced is, that certain phenomena appear and are continued in the soul\nwithout the concurrence of our will.\n\nThe same thing happens with the body: there are functions which it\nexercises independently of our freewill, such as the circulation of the\nblood, respiration, digestion, assimilation of food, transpiration, and\nothers; but there are others which are only performed at the command\nof the will, as eating, walking, and in general whatever relates to\nthe motion and position of the members. Why may not a similar thing\nhappen in the soul? Why may not the soul have active faculties which\nare developed, and produce various phenomena, without the concurrence\nof the will?\n\nI do not believe any reply to this solution possible. Still I propose\nto strengthen it by some remarks on the character of the phenomena in\nwhich it is pretended that the soul is purely passive.\n\n170. The objection speaks of painful sensations, in which apparently\nthe soul has no activity. Who will say that a man to whom I apply\na burning iron, and who suffers horrid pain, exercises in this the\nactivity of his soul? Is it not more reasonable to say that the soul\nis here purely passive, and in a state very like that of the body\nwhen pressed down by the weight of another body? If any activity is\nexercised in such a case it is rather that of reaction against a\npainful sensation. Reflect well upon these observations, and you will\nfind that they contain no difficulty whose solution cannot be found in\nthe preceding paragraph. I admit that the painful sensation does not\ndepend on the freewill of the sufferer, and that his free action is\nopposed to this sensation; but despite all this, the soul may have a\ntrue activity in the mere fact of perceiving: it only shows that the\nexercise of this activity is subject to necessary conditions which\nwhen they exist are more powerful for its development than is our will\nto prevent it. Nothing is more certain than the development of certain\nactive faculties independently of our freewill. What more active than\nviolent passions? And yet it is often impossible for us not to feel\nthem; and it requires all the command of our freewill to restrain them\nwithin the bounds of reason.\n\n171. Sensation in itself cannot be all passive; and those who maintain\nthat it is, show that they have meditated but little on the facts of\nconsciousness. These facts are essentially individual, and inasmuch as\nthey are facts of consciousness, absolutely incommunicable. Another may\nfeel a pain very like, and even equal to, that which I suffer; but he\ncannot experience the same _numerically_ considered; for my pain is so\nessentially mine, that if it is not mine it does not exist. Therefore\npain cannot be communicated as an individual entity to me, and all that\ncan be done to produce it in me, is to excite my sensitive power so as\nto experience it.\n\nThis observation shows that sensations cannot be merely passive facts.\nA passive modification is all _received_; the subject suffering _does_\nnothing. From the moment that the subject has in itself some principle\nof its modification, it is not purely passive. Sensation cannot be all\n_received_; it must be _born_ in the subject under some influence or\nother, on this or that occasion; but the being which experiences it\nmust contain a principle of its own experience; otherwise it would be a\n_lifeless_ being, and could not perceive.\n\n172. The objection speaks of painful sensations as though their\nnecessity were an exception from the general rule; whereas all\nsensations, pleasant or unpleasant, are equally necessary, provided\nthe sensitive faculties are placed in the conditions necessary for\ntheir exercise. There is the same necessity in the pain which I feel\nif a burning coal is placed in my hand, as in the sight of a beautiful\npainting placed before my eyes.\n\n173. The spontaneousness of internal phenomena, in the pure\nintellectual order, or in that of imagination or sentiment, confirms\nthe existence of an activity independent of our freewill, and by no\nmeans indicates that these phenomena are purely passive.\n\nThere is an important circumstance to be observed here. The exercise\nof the functions of the soul is connected with the phenomena of the\norganization. Experience teaches that the soul perceives with more or\nless activity, according to the disposition of the body; and it is a\nfact known from all antiquity that certain liquors have an inspiring\npower. The state of the digestion causes heavy dreams and torments the\nfancy with horrible forms; fever raises or depresses the imagination;\nsometimes it increases the strength of the understanding, and sometimes\nit produces a stupor in which intelligence is extinguished. These\nphenomena offer a greater field to observation when they reach a\nvery high degree, as happens when the organic functions are greatly\ndisturbed; but this shows that there is an immense scale passed over\nbefore arriving at the extremity; so that some phenomena, whose\nspontaneous appearance seems inexplicable, perhaps depend on certain\nunknown conditions to which our organization is subject. Whatever\nopinion be adopted as to the equality or inequality of human souls, no\none has any doubt but that the differences of organization may have\nan influence on the talent or character, and that certain minds of\nextraordinary faculties owe a part of their endowments to a privileged\norganization.\n\nHence it may be inferred that what is called the spontaneity of the\nsoul, and which has attracted so much attention from some modern\nphilosophers, is a phenomenon very generally known, and one which\nneither destroys internal activity nor tells us any thing new as to its\ncharacter.\n\nIt is certain that there are certain phenomena in our soul which are\nindependent of our freewill; but there is no doubt that their presence\nis sometimes sudden and unexpected, because the conditions of our\norganization with which they are connected are unknown. But this is\nonly extending to a greater number of cases what we have frequently\nremarked in psychological facts, the effects of disease, and what we\nconstantly experience in sensations. What is a sensation but a sudden\nappearance of a phenomenon in our soul, produced by a change in the\nstate of the organs?\n\n174. I do not mean by this to say that all spontaneous thoughts, and in\ngeneral all phenomena which suddenly appear within us without any known\npreparation, arise from affections of the organization; I only wished\nto recall a physiological and psychological fact, the neglect of which\nmight produce useless and even dangerous speculations. In reading the\nworks of some modern philosophers who treat this point, it seems as\nthough their object were to prepare the way for maintaining that the\nindividual reason is only a phenomenon of the universal and absolute\nreason; and that inspirations, and in general all spontaneous phenomena\nindependent of freewill, are only indications of the absolute reason\nappearing to itself in the human reason; that what we call our _me_ is\na modification of the absolute being; and the personality of our being\nis only a phasis of the absolute and impersonal reason.\n\n175. What is called spontaneity, the intuition of former times,\nto the eyes of reason and of criticism can only be the primitive\nteaching which the human race received from God: whatever some modern\nphilosophers say to the contrary is only a partly disguised repetition\nof the sophisms of the incredulous of every epoch, presented in a\ndeceitful dress by men who abuse the talents which they possess. Read\nwith reflection the writings to which we allude, strip them of some\nhigh-sounding and enigmatical terms, and you will find in them nothing\nmore than what Lucretius and Voltaire had already said after their own\nfashion.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVII.\n\nREMARKS ON SPONTANEITY.\n\n\n176. There is nothing easier than to write a few brilliant pages on\nthe phenomenon of spontaneity; some philosophers of our day discourse\nof the genius of the poets, of the artists, and of the captains of all\nages, the fabulous and the heroic times, mysticism and religion, in\nbooks which are neither philosophy, nor history, nor poetry, but which\ncan only be regarded as a flood of agreeable and harmonious words with\nwhich writers of sparkling fancy and inexhaustible eloquence deluge the\noverpowered intellect of the ingenuous reader. And after all, what is\nthis spontaneity, this inspiration of which they tell us so much? Let\nus fix our ideas by establishing and classifying facts.\n\n177. Reason properly so called is not developed in the human mind\nwhen completely isolated from other minds; the sight of nature is not\nsufficient to arouse it. The stupidness of children found in the woods\nand the scanty intelligence of deaf-mutes are undeniable evidence of\nthis truth.\n\n178. The human mind, when placed in communication with other minds,\nexperiences a development in part direct and spontaneous, in part\nreflex and elaborate. This is another fact which we all perceive\nwithin ourselves. Minds are developed with greater spontaneousness in\nproportion as their qualities are more advanced.\n\n179. Of the thoughts which occur to us suddenly and which seem to us\npurely spontaneous, not a few are reminiscences, more or less faithful,\nof what we have before read, heard, or thought; and consequently they\nproceed from a _preparatory_ fact, which we do not remember. This\nexplains how labor perfects the inventive faculty.\n\n180. As the organization of our body exercises a powerful influence\nin the development of the soul's faculties, we may say that the\nspontaneity of some internal phenomena is connected with certain\nchanges of our organization.\n\n181. There is no _philosophical_ difficulty in admitting an _immediate_\ncommunication of our mind with another mind of a higher order; and\nconsequently there is none in admitting that some internal spontaneous\nphenomena arise from the direct influence of this higher mind upon ours.\n\n182. The human race did not originally have a spontaneous development\nindependent of the action of the Creator; philosophy shows us the\nnecessity of a primitive teaching, without which the human race would\nhave remained in a state of brute-like stupidity. This last remark\nrequires a further explanation.\n\n183. Religion reveals a primitive instruction and education of the\nhuman race given by God himself to the person of the first man; this is\nin perfect conformity with what both reason and experience assert.\n\nOur mind possesses innumerable germs, but their growth requires an\nexternal cause. What would a man be who had been alone from his\ninfancy? Little more than a brute: the precious stone would be covered\nwith coarse earth which would prevent its glistening.\n\nLanguage does not and cannot produce ideas; this is certain: the\nreason of ideas is not in language, but the reason of language is in\nideas. Words are signs; and that which is not conceived can have no\nsign. But this sign, this instrument is of a wonderful use; words are\nto the understanding what wheels are to the power of a machine; the\npower imparts motion, but the machine would not go without wheels. The\nunderstanding might have some motion without language, but very slow,\nvery imperfect, very heavy.\n\n184. The Bible represents man as speaking as soon as created; language\nwas therefore taught him by God. This is another wonderful fact\nwhich reason fully confirms. Man could not invent language. This\ninvention surpasses all that can be imagined, and would you attribute\nit to beings so stupid as men without language? Better to say that a\nHottentot could suddenly invent infinitesimal calculus.\n\n185. The most ignorant man who knows a language possesses an incredible\ntreasure of ideas. In the simplest conversation we may find many\nphysical, metaphysical, and moral ideas. Take the following sentence,\nwhich is within the comprehension of the lowest mind: \"I did not wish\nto pursue the beast farther for fear that, becoming irritated, he\nmight do harm.\" Here are the ideas of time, act of the will, action,\ncontinuity, space, causality, analogy, end, and morality.\n\nTime past:--I _did_ not;\n\nAct of the will:--_wish_;\n\nAction:--to _pursue_;\n\nContinuity and space:--_farther_;\n\nAnalogy:--_becoming irritated_; since from irritation in other\ninstances, it is inferred in the present; and it is also known from\nwhat happens to ourselves if molested.\n\nMotive and end:--_for fear_, _that irritated_, etc.;\n\nCausality:--_he might do harm_;\n\nMorality:--_not to harm others_.\n\n186. Science is discovering the affinity of languages, finding them\nunited in great centres. The dialects of savages are not elements, but\nfragments; they are not the lisping speech of infancy, but the torpid\nand extravagant jargon of degradation and ebriety.\n\n187. Language cannot produce in the mind the idea of a sensation which\nit has not: all the words in the world could not give one born blind\nthe idea of color. Still less could pure ideas, distinct from all\nsensation, result from language; and this is a strong argument in favor\nof innate ideas.\n\n188. The ideas of unity, number, time, and causality express things\nwhich are not sensible; therefore they cannot be produced in us by any\nsensible representation expressed in language. Yet these ideas exist\nin us as germs susceptible of a great development, first by sensible\nexperience, and then by reflection. The child who burns his hand in the\nfire begins to perceive the relation of causality, which he afterwards\ngeneralizes and purifies. The great ideas of Leibnitz on causality were\nthe ideas of Leibnitz the child. The difference was in the development.\nThus the organization of the giant oak is contained within the shell of\nthe acorn.\n\nSome have said that man's understanding is like a blank tablet on which\nnothing is yet written; others that it was a book which he had only to\nopen in order to read; I believe it may be compared to a letter written\nin invisible ink, which looks white until rubbed with a mysterious\nliquid which brings out the black characters. The magic liquid is\ninstruction and education.\n\n189. Show me a single nation which of itself has emerged from a savage\nor a barbarous state. All known civilizations are subordinated one to\nanother in an uninterrupted chain. European civilization owes much to\nChristianity, and something to the Roman; the Roman to the Greek;\nthe Greek to the Egyptian; the Egyptian to the Oriental; and over the\nOriental civilization hangs a veil which can be lifted only by the\nfirst chapters of Genesis.\n\n190. In order to know the human mind it is necessary to study the\nhistory of humanity; whoever isolates objects too much runs in danger\nof mutilating them; hence so many ideological frivolities which have\npassed for profound investigations, although they were as far from true\nmetaphysics as the art of arranging a museum symmetrically is from\nthe science of the naturalist.\n\n191. If innate ideas be defended, it is impossible to deny to our\nunderstanding a power to form new ideas accordingly as objects,\nespecially language, excite it; otherwise it would be necessary to say\nthat we do not learn any thing, and cannot learn any thing; that we\nhave every thing beforehand in our mind, as if written in a book. Our\nunderstanding seems to resemble a case containing all kinds of types;\nbut, in order that they may mean any thing, the hand of the compositor\nis necessary.\n\nThis image of printer's types reminds me of an important ideological\nfact: I mean the scanty number of ideas which are in our mind, and\nthe great variety of combinations of which they are susceptible. All\nthat is in the intellectual order, or is contained in the categories,\nwhether we adopt those of Kant or those of Aristotle, or any others,\nmay be reduced to a very few. Each of those ideas which we call\ngenerative is like a ray of light which, passing successively through\ninnumerable prisms and refracted on a number of spectra, presents an\ninfinite variety of colors, shades, and figures.\n\nAs our thought is almost entirely reduced to combination, and as this\ncombination may be made in various ways, there is a wonderful agreement\nin the fundamental combinations which all minds have. In the secondary\npoints there is divergence, but not in the principal. This proves that\nthe human mind, in its existence and in its development, depends on an\ninfinite intelligence, which is the cause and master of all minds.\n\n192. Reject these doctrines so accordant with philosophy and with\nhistory, and spontaneity, whether of the individual or the race, either\nmeans nothing, or it expresses the vague and absurd theories of ideal\npantheism.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVIII.\n\nFINAL CAUSALITY;--MORALITY.\n\n\n193. Those beings which act by intelligence must have, besides their\nefficient activity, a moral principle of their determinations. In\norder to will, the faculty of willing is not alone sufficient; it is\nnecessary to know that which is willed, for nothing is willed without\nbeing known. Hence arises _final causality_, which is essentially\ndistinct from efficient causality, and can exist only in beings endowed\nwith intelligence.\n\n194. Recalling what was said in the tenth chapter of this book, we may\nobserve that final causes form a series distinct from that of efficient\ncauses; what in the latter is physical action, is in the former, moral\ninfluence. In a painting, the series of efficient causes is the pencil,\nthe hand, the muscles, the animal spirits, and the command of the will.\nThis series, which is necessary for the execution of the painting,\nmay be combined with different series of final causes. The artist may\npurpose by the brilliancy of his genius to acquire renown, and by\nrenown to enjoy the happiness of a great name. Another series may be,\nto please a person for whom he is working; and this in order that the\nperson may pay him a sum of money; and the money in order to gratify\nthe artist's wants or pleasures. A third series may be, in order to\nseek in painting a distraction from a grief; and this in order to\npreserve his health. It is evident that many series of a purely moral\nor intellectual influence may be imagined, and which concur in the\nproduction of the effect only, in so far as combined with the series of\nefficient causes, they influence the artist's determination.\n\n195. This moral influence may be exerted in two ways: either\nnecessarily bending the will, or leaving it free to will or not will;\nin the first case, there is a voluntary, but necessary spontaneousness;\nin the second, there is a free spontaneousness. Every free act is\nvoluntary, but not every voluntary act is free. God freely wills the\nconservation of creatures; but he necessarily wills virtue, and cannot\nwill iniquity.\n\n196. Regarding only efficient causality, we have only the relations\nof cause and effect; but considering final causality, a new order of\nideas and facts is presented, which is _morality_. Let us first of all\nestablish the existence of the fact.\n\n197. Good and evil, moral, immoral, just, unjust, right, duty,\nobligation, command, prohibition, lawful, unlawful, virtue, and vice,\nare words which we all use continually, and apply to the whole course\nof life, to all the relations of man with God, with himself, and\nwith his fellow-men, without any doubt as to their true meaning, and\nperfectly understanding each other, just as when we speak of color,\nlight, or other sensible objects. When the term lawful or unlawful\nis applied to an act, who ever asks what it means? When this man is\ncalled virtuous, that vicious, who does not know the meaning of these\nexpressions? Is there any one who finds a difficulty in understanding\nthe expressions which follow: he has a right to perform this act; he\nis obliged to comply with that circumstance; this is his duty; he\nhas neglected his duty; this is commanded; that is prohibited; this\nis right; that is wrong: this is a heroic virtue; that is a crime?\nNo ideas are more common, more ordinarily used, by the ignorant as\nby the learned; by barbarous as by civilized nations; in the youth\nof societies as in their infancy, and in their old age; in the midst\nof pure customs, as of the most revolting corruption; they express\nsomething primitive, innate in the human mind and indispensable to\nits existence, something which it cannot throw off while it retains\nthe exercise of its faculties. There may be more or less error and\nextravagance in the application of these ideas to certain particular\ncases: but the generative ideas of good and evil, just and unjust,\nlawful and unlawful, are the same at all times, and in all countries;\nthey form, as it were, an atmosphere in which the human mind lives and\nbreathes.\n\n198. It is remarkable that even those who deny the distinction between\ngood and evil, are forced to admit it in practice. A philosopher, with\nhis pen in his hand, laughs at what he calls the prejudices of the\nhuman race concerning the difference between good and evil; but say\nto him: \"It seems to me, Sir Philosopher, that you are a detestable\nwretch, to spend your time in destroying that which is most holy on\nearth;\" and you will see how soon he will forget his philosophy and all\nthat he has said of the empty meaning of the words virtue and vice,\nbecome indignant at being thus addressed, warmly defend himself, and\nattempt to prove to you that he is the most virtuous man in the world,\ngiving repeated arguments of _honesty_, _sincerity_, and _honor_. It\nmatters little that in his lofty theories, honor, sincerity, and\nhonesty, are unmeaning words, since they can have no sense unless\nthe word order is admitted; the philosopher is not staggered by an\ninconsequence, or rather, he takes no notice of it; moral ideas and\nsentiments are awakened in his mind as soon as he hears himself called\nimmoral, he ceases to be a sophist, and becomes a man again.\n\n199. Can the idea of this moral order be a prejudice, which, without\nany thing in reality corresponding to it, or any foundation in human\nnature, owes its origin to education, so that it would have been\npossible for men to have lived without moral ideas, or with others\ndirectly contrary to those which we now have? If it is a prejudice,\nhow comes it that it is general to all times and countries? Who\ncommunicated it to the human race? who was strong and powerful enough\nto make all men adopt it? How did it happen that the passions, when in\npossession of their liberty, renounced it, and suffered a bridle to be\nput on them? Who was that extraordinary man who subdued all times and\nall countries, the most brutal customs, the most violent passions, the\nmost obtuse understandings, and diffused the idea of a moral order over\nthe whole face of the earth, notwithstanding the diversity of climates,\nlanguages, customs, and necessities, and the differences in the social\ncondition of nations, and gave to this idea of the moral order such\nforce and consistency that it has been preserved through the most\ncomplete revolutions, amid the ruins of empires, and the fluctuations\nand transmigrations of civilization, remaining firm as a rock, unmoved\nby the furious waves of the river of ages?\n\nHere is not the hand of man; a phenomenon of this sort does not\nspring from human combinations; it is founded on nature, and it is\nindestructible because it is natural; thus, and thus only, is it\npossible to explain its universality and permanence.\n\n200. To deny all difference between good and evil is to place one's\nself in open contradiction with the ideas the most deeply rooted in the\nhuman mind, with all its most profound and most powerful sentiments;\nall the sophisms of the world could not persuade any one, not even the\nsophist himself, that there is no difference between consoling one who\nis afflicted, and adding to his afflictions; between assisting the\nunfortunate, and increasing their misfortunes; between being grateful\nfor a favor, and doing evil to the benefactor; between fulfilling a\npromise, and breaking it; between giving alms, and taking what belongs\nto another; between being faithful to a friend, and betraying him;\nbetween dying for one's country, and selling it to the enemy; between\nrespecting the laws of modesty, and violating them without shame;\nbetween sobriety and drunkenness; between temperance and moderation\nin all the acts of life, and the disorder of unbridled passions. No\nargument, nor genius, nor cavil can destroy the dividing line. The\nsophist discusses, imagines, feigns, subtilizes, but in vain; nature is\nthere; she says to senseless man: So far mayst thou go, but here shall\nthy pride be broken.\n\n201. If there is no intrinsic difference between good and evil, and all\nthat is said of the morality and immorality of actions is a collection\nof words which have no meaning, or only such as they have received from\nhuman convention; how is it that whilst the just man sleeps securely\nin his bed, the evil-doer is tossed about with a heart struggling with\nremorse? Whence come those sentiments of love and respect inspired by\nwhat we call virtue, and the aversion created by what is called vice?\nDo not the love of children, the veneration of parents, fidelity to\nfriends, compassion for suffering, gratitude towards benefactors, the\nhorror which all men have for a cruel father, a parricide son, an\nunfaithful wife, a dishonest friend, a traitor to his country, a hand\nred with the blood of its victim, oppression of the weak, desertion of\nthe orphan, do not all these sentiments show clearer than the light of\nday the hand of the Almighty engraving in our souls the ideas of the\nmoral order, and strengthening us with sentiments which instinctively\nshow us, even when we have not time to reflect, the path which we\nshould follow?\n\n202. I do not deny that serious difficulties are encountered in\nexamining the grounds of morality; I admit that the analysis of\nthe knowledge of good and evil is one of the most hidden points of\nphilosophy; but these difficulties prove nothing against the difference\nwe have established. No one denies the existence of a building because\nhe cannot see how deep its foundations go: its depth is a proof of its\nsolidity, a guaranty of its duration. The difference between good and\nevil demonstrated _a priori_ by the interior sentiments of the heart,\nis strengthened with further evidence if we regard the consequences\nof its existence or non-existence. Let us admit the moral order,\nand suppose all men to regulate their conduct conformably to this\n_prejudice_. What will be the result? The world becomes a paradise;\nmen live like brothers, using with moderation the gifts of nature,\ndividing with each other their happiness, and aiding one another to\nbear misfortune; the most lovely harmony reigns in the individual, the\nfamily, and society; if the moral order is a prejudice, let us confess\nthat never did prejudice have more grand, beneficial, and delightful\nconsequences; if virtue is a lie, never was there one more useful,\nfairer, or more sublime.\n\n203. But let us make the counterproof. Let us suppose this prejudice\nto disappear, and all men to be convinced that the moral order is a\nvain illusion which they must banish from their understanding, their\nwill, and their acts; what will be the result this time? The moral\norder destroyed, the physical alone remains; every one thinks and acts\naccording to his views, passions, or caprices; man has no other guide\nthan the blind instinct of nature or the cold speculations of egotism;\nthe individual becomes a monster, all the ties of family are broken\nasunder; and society, sunk in a frightful chaos, rapidly advances to\ncomplete destruction. These are the necessary consequences of the\nrejection of the _prejudice_. Language would be horridly mutilated if\nthe ideas of the moral order should disappear; good and bad conduct\nwould be words without meaning; praise and blame would have no object;\neven vanity would lose a great part of its food; flattery would be\nforced to confine itself to natural qualities, considered in the purely\nphysical order; to pronounce the word merit, would be forbidden under\npain of falling into absurdity.\n\n204. See, then, if any objection could be sufficient to make such\nconsequences admissible. Whoever, frightened at the difficulties\naccompanying the examination of the first principles of morality,\nshould undertake to deny morality, would be as foolish as the\nhusbandman who, seeing the stream which waters his fields, should\ninsist on denying the existence of its waters because inaccessible\ncrags prevent his approach to their source.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIX.\n\nVARIOUS EXPLANATIONS OF MORALITY.\n\n\n205. There have been many disputes concerning the origin and character\nof the morality of actions; the same happening here as elsewhere, that\nthe understanding becomes perplexed and confused whenever it attempts\nto penetrate into the first principles of things. As I am not going\nto write a treatise on morals, but only to analyze the foundations of\nthis science, I shall confine myself to giving the character, as far\nas possible, of the primitive ideas and sentiments of the moral order,\nwithout descending to their application. In this I shall proceed, as\nusual, on the analytic method, decomposing the fact established in the\npreceding chapter, glancing at the various explanations which have been\ngiven of it, showing the insufficiency and inexactness of some of them,\nbefore coming to the only one which appears to me true and complete.\n\n206. What is good? what is evil? why are things good or evil? in what\ndoes goodness or evil consist? what is their origin?\n\nWe are told that good is that which is conformed to reason, that which\nis in harmony with the eternal laws, that which is pleasing to God, and\nthat evil is that which is opposed to reason, that which contradicts\nthe eternal law, that which displeases God. This is true, but does it\ncompletely solve the question on a scientific ground?\n\nThe moral worth of the dictate of reason depends on its conformity to\nthe eternal law; when, therefore, to found the moral order, you call in\nthe former, you also appeal to the latter; they are not therefore two\nsolutions of the question, but only one.\n\nActs cannot please or displease God, except as conformed to the eternal\nlaw; therefore, to judge of the goodness or evil of acts by their\nrelation to the pleasure or displeasure of God, is to judge of them by\ntheir conformity to the eternal law.\n\nFrom this it may be inferred that, although an act conformed to reason,\none agreeing with the eternal law, and one displeasing to God, express\ndifferent aspects of an idea, they all mean the same when used in\nexplaining the foundations of the moral order.\n\n207. The rules of the eternal law do not depend on the _free_ will of\nGod, since, in that case, God could make good evil, and evil good.\nThe eternal law cannot be any thing else than the eternal reason,\nor the representation of the moral order in the divine intellect.\nMorality thus seems, according to our mode of conception, to precede\nits representation; that is to say, morality seems to be represented\nin the divine intellect because it is; but not that it is because it\nis represented. In the moral order we come to something resembling\nmetaphysical and geometrical science. Geometrical truths are eternal,\ninasmuch as they are represented in the eternal reason; and this\nrepresentation supposes an intrinsic and necessary truth in them,\nsince the representation would otherwise be false. As this truth must\nhave some eternal foundation,[96] and this foundation cannot be in\nany finite being, it must be sought for in the essentially infinite\nbeing, which contains the reason of all things. The infinite intellect\nrepresents the truth, and is, therefore, true; but this truth is itself\nfounded on the essence of the infinite being which knows it.\n\n[96] See Bk. IV., Chs. XXIV., XXV., XXVI., and XXVII.\n\n208. Moral truths are not distinguished in this respect from\nmetaphysical; their origin is in God, moral science cannot be\natheistic. Why are some things represented in God as good and others\nas evil? To ask the reason of this is like asking why triangles are\nnot represented as circles, and circles as triangles. If there is an\nintrinsic necessity, either we can assign no reason for it or we must\nat any rate come to a reason which can be explained by no other reason.\nIt will in any case, be necessary for us to come to a point where\nwe can only say: It is so. Any further satisfaction, which we might\ndesire, is beyond our reach, as we do not intuitively see the infinite\nessence which contains the first and ultimate reason of all things.\n\n209. It is necessary first to suppose good and evil before things can\nbe represented as such, or even conceived as so represented. What is\na good thing? If we say it is being represented as good in the divine\nmind, the thing defined is contained in the definition; the difficulty\nstill remains: what is it to be represented as good?\n\nGoodness cannot consist in the simple representation, so that whatever\nis represented in God is good; for then every thing would be good, as\nevery thing is represented in God.\n\nTherefore, in order that a thing may be good, it must not only be\nrepresented, but represented under such or such a character which makes\nit good; but still the difficulty remains: what is this character?\n\n210. Let us make these ideas clearer by comparing a metaphysical with a\nmoral truth. All the diameters of the same circle are equal; this truth\ndoes not depend on any particular circle, it is founded on the essence\nof all circles; this essence is in turn represented eternally in the\ninfinite essence, where with the plenitude of being, is contained the\nrepresentation and knowledge of all the finite participations in which\nthe wisdom and power of God may be exercised. All the participations\nare subject to the principle of contradiction, in none of them can\nbeing cease to exclude not-being, or not-being to exclude being; hence\nproceeds the necessity of all the properties and relations, without\nwhich the principle of contradiction cannot subsist; among these is the\nequality of all the diameters of the same circle.\n\n211. These considerations suggest the question: is it possible to\nexplain the moral order like the metaphysical and mathematical, by\nshowing it contained in the principle of contradiction?\n\n212. It is easy to see that in all metaphysical and mathematical\ntruths, identity is expressed or denied. All formulas are reduced to A\nis B, or A is not B; this is the general formula of all truths of an\nabsolute order. But it is otherwise in the moral order, where nothing\nis ever expressed absolutely, as is shown by the very form of the\npropositions. God is good, expresses a metaphysical truth, God must\nbe loved, or in other words, we ought to love God, expresses a moral\ntruth. Note the difference: in one case we say _is_ absolutely; in the\nother, _must be_, _ought to be_, _there is obligation_, etc., using\ndifferent expressions which all mean the same thing; but in all, the\nverb _to be_, as an absolute affirmation, disappears. It seems that no\nmoral proposition could be thus expressed, if we regard the primitive\nelements of our moral ideas; for all these propositions express the\nidea of duty, which is essentially a relative idea.\n\n213. To love God is good. This is a moral proposition whose structure\nseems to contradict what I have just established. Here an absolute\naffirmation is found expressed simply by _is_, as in metaphysical or\nmathematical propositions. Still, the least reflection will suffice to\nshow that this absolute character is destroyed by the nature of the\npredicate. What is the meaning of _good_? Here we have an essentially\nrelative idea which communicates this character to the proposition. To\nlove God is good, is the same as: to love God is a thing conformed to\nreason, or to the eternal law, or pleasing to God, or a thing which we\nare under obligation to do; it is always a relative idea, and never\nabsolute, like being, not-being, a triangle, a circle, etc.\n\n214. Good, say some, is that which leads to the end which corresponds\nto intelligent beings. This explanation must not be confounded with\nthe theory of private interest;--a theory alike rejected by religion\nand by the sentiments of the heart, and combated by the most profound\nthinkers;--here, in speaking of end, the last end is meant, which is\nsomething superior to what is understood by the expression, private\ninterest. Without doubt, to arrive at the last end, is a great interest\nof every intelligent being; but at least this interest is taken in\nan elevated sense, and does not promote the development of a paltry\negotism.\n\nHaving thus designated the difference between these doctrines, I say\nthat not even the latter seems to me admissible. Moral good must lead\nto the end; but this does not constitute the character of morality.\nFor, what is meant by end? If God himself is meant, a moral act is\nthat which leads to God; in which case the difficulty still remains,\nfor we again ask, what is meant by _leading_? If it means to conduce\nto the happiness which consists in a union with God, _how_ does\nit conduce to this happiness? By the performance of what God has\ncommanded;--certainly; but then we ask: I. Why does doing what God\nhas commanded conduce to happiness? II. Why has God commanded some\nthings and prohibited others?--which is equivalent to putting anew the\nquestion of intrinsic morality.\n\n215. Besides, the idea of happiness represents something very different\nfrom the idea of morality. Imagining a being which sacrifices all\nthat it possessed for the sake of other beings, we have the idea of\na highly moral being, but not a happy being. If morality consisted in\nhappiness, the participation of happiness would be the participation\nof morality; every enjoyment would be a moral act; and could only be\nimmoral because too short or feeble. In proportion as we rose to the\nidea of a stronger and more lasting enjoyment, we should form the\nidea of a more elevated morality; the enjoyment the most free from\ntrouble would be the purest act of morality; who does not see that this\noverthrows all our moral ideas, and is repugnant to every sentiment of\nthe heart?\n\n216. It is not enough to say that a moral being will obtain happiness,\nand that its happiness will be great in proportion to its morality;\nthis only proves that happiness is the reward of morality; it does not\nauthorize us to confound the two, the guerdon with the merit.\n\n217. To confound morality with happiness is to reduce morality to\na calculation, to strip virtue of the pure lustre which charms and\nattracts us, and makes it appear more beautiful accordingly as it is\njoined with greater suffering. If we identify happiness with morality,\ndisinterestedness becomes a calculation of interest, a sacrifice of a\nsmaller to a greater interest, a loss for the present to gain in the\nfuture.\n\nNo! the morality of actions is not an affair of calculation: the\nvirtuous man obtains a reward; but, in order that the act may be\nvirtuous, something more is necessary than a combination for the\npurpose of obtaining it; there must be something which makes the act\nmerit the reward; and we cannot even conceive that a reward can be\nreserved for any act, unless the act is in itself meritorious.\n\nWhen God prepared punishment for some acts and rewards for others,\nhe must have found an intrinsic difference in them; and therefore he\ngave them different destinies; but, according to the systems which\nwe are opposing, acts could be good only inasmuch as they lead to a\nreward, and there would be no reason why some should lead to it rather\nthan others. This reason must be found in an intrinsic difference in\nthe acts themselves; or we fall into the absurdity of saying that all\nactions are in themselves indifferent, and the good may be evil, and\nthe evil good.\n\n218. To lead to the good of mankind is another incomplete character of\nthe morality of actions. It is clear that this morality would be only\nhuman, and would not include the intrinsic morality which we consider\ncommon to all intelligent beings.\n\n219. What, too, is the good which is spoken of? In what state are\nmankind considered? Do you mean a society constituted as a nation, or\nmankind, properly so called; one generation or many; their destiny\non earth or hereafter in another life? Are you speaking of their\n_well-being_, or of their development and perfection abstracted from\ntheir greater or less well-being? If the morality of actions is to be\nplaced in their _conduciveness_, so to speak, to the general good of\nmankind, in what does this supreme good consist? Is it the development\nof the understanding, of the imagination, or of the heart; or in the\nperfection of the arts, which secure material enjoyments? You must not,\nthen, place moral perfection as the end; for by the supposition it is\nonly the means; and the actions will be more moral accordingly as they\nare more useful means of obtaining the general good.\n\n220. To say that morality is only the object of sentiment, and that no\nother mark of what is good can be given than the mysterious perfection\nwhich we find in virtue, is to banish morality as a science, and to\nshut the door against all investigation. I do not deny that there is\nin us a moral sentiment, or that our heart feels mysterious sympathy\nfor virtue; but I believe the scientific study of the foundations of\nthe moral order to be compatible with this fact. It is necessary to\nacknowledge the primitive character of some facts of our mind, and not\nattempt to explain every thing; but we must guard against exaggeration\nin this respect, which is only the more dangerous when covered with the\ncloak of modesty.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XX.\n\nFUNDAMENTAL EXPLANATION OF THE MORAL ORDER.\n\n\n221. There must be something absolute in morality. It is not possible\nto conceive any thing all relative, without something absolute on which\nit is founded. Moreover, every relation implies a term to which it\nrelates, and, consequently, though we suppose a series of relations, we\nmust come to a last term. This shows why purely relative explanations\nof morality do not satisfy the understanding; reason, and even\nsentiment seek an absolute basis.\n\nBesides, this purely ontological argument in favor of the absolute in\nmorality, there are others not less conclusive, and which are within\nthe reach of ordinary men.\n\n222. In the infinitely perfect being we conceive infinite holiness,\nindependently of the existence of creatures; and what is infinite\nholiness but _moral_ perfection in an infinite degree? This argument\nis decisive for all the world, excepting atheists: whoso admits the\nexistence of God must admit his holiness; the contrary is repugnant to\nreason, to the heart, to common sense. Therefore something absolutely\nmoral exists; therefore morality in itself cannot be explained by any\nrelation of creatures to end, since morality in an infinite degree\nwould exist though there had never been any creature.\n\n223. In conceiving a created intelligent being, we also conceive\nmorality as an inflexible law to which the actions of this being must\nbe subjected. It is to be observed that we conceive this morality, even\nsupposing only one intelligent being; therefore morality cannot be\nexplained by the relations of creatures to each other. Imagine one man\nall alone on the earth, can you conceive him exempt from all morality?\nWould he be equally beautiful in the moral order, whether he labored\nto perfect his intellect and develop his faculties harmoniously, or\nabandoned himself to his coarse instincts, lowering himself to the\nlevel of the beasts by his stupidity and debasement? Imagine the\nearth, the whole corporeal universe, and all created beings, except\none intelligence, to disappear; can you conceive this creature wholly\nexempt from all moral law? Can you suppose all his thoughts and acts of\nthe will to be indifferent, and that morality is for him an unmeaning\nword? Impossible, unless you place yourself in open struggle with our\nprimary ideas, with our profoundest sentiments, with the common sense\nof mankind. This, then, is another proof that in the moral order there\nis something absolute, an intrinsic perfection, independent of the\nmutual relations of creatures; that certain acts of an intelligent and\nfree creature have a beauty of their own.\n\n224. The imputability of actions offers another argument in\nconfirmation of this truth. Morality is never measured by the result;\nits perfection is appreciated by what is _immanent_, that is, by\nthe motives which have impelled the will, by the greater or less\ndeliberation which preceded the act of the will, by the greater or less\nintensity of the act. If the result is sometimes considered, all its\nmoral worth arises from the interior of the soul. Whether the result\nwas foreseen or unforeseen; whether it was possible or not to foresee\nit; whether it was willed or not; whether it was proposed as the\nprincipal or secondary object; whether it was desired or accepted with\nsorrow; these and other such considerations are present when the merit\nor demerit of an action which has had such or such result, is weighed\nand appreciated. Hence this result has no weight in the moral order\nexcept in so far as it is the expression of the act of the will.\n\n225. This character of _immanence_, which is essential to all moral\nacts, overthrows all the theories which found morality on external\ncombinations; and shows that the act of a free and intelligent being\nis good or bad in itself, absolutely abstracted from its good or bad\nconsequences, which were not contained in the internal act in one\nway or another. A man, who, by an act which he did not and could\nnot foresee, should seriously injure the whole human race, would\nbe innocent; and another who with an evil intention should benefit\nmankind, would be guilty. It is not a virtuous act to save one's\ncountry through a motive of vanity or ambition; and the unfortunate\nman, who with a pure and disinterested intention and with an ardent\ndesire to save his country, should by an error produce its downfall,\nwould not cease to be virtuous; the very act whose result is so sad, is\nconsidered an act of virtue.\n\n226. In what, then, does absolute morality consist? Where is the hidden\nsource of this ray of beauty which we all perceive, which penetrates\nevery thing, making all things beautiful, and without which the world\nof intelligences would wither and fade away?\n\nIt seems to me that on this point, as on many others, science has not\npaid sufficient regard to the admirable profoundness of the Christian\nreligion, which answers with one word, as full of tenderness as of\nmeaning: _Love_.\n\nI particularly call the attention of my readers to the theory which I\nam going to unfold. After so many difficulties as we have hitherto\nencountered concerning the moral order, we must try to gain some light\non so important a subject. This light will more and more confirm a\ntruth which science reveals. When we come to the principles or the last\nresults of science, the ideas of Christianity are not useless; they\nthrow light on the foundation and on the summit of the edifice of human\nknowledge.\n\nLet not the reader imagine that instead of a scientific theory, I am\ngoing to offer him a chapter of mysticism. I am sure that in the end\nthe reader will be convinced that, even under a purely scientific\naspect, this doctrine is much more exact and profound than that of\nthose authors who carefully avoid using the word _God_, as though this\naugust name would be a blot on the pages of science.\n\n227. Absolute morality is the love of God; all moral ideas and\nsentiments are applications and participations of this love.\n\nLet us give a proof of this by carrying this principle to all the parts\nof the moral world.\n\nWhat is absolute morality in God? What is the attribute of the infinite\nbeing, which we call holiness? The love of himself, of his infinite\nperfection. In God there is no duty, properly so called, there is\nan absolute necessity of being holy; for he is under the absolute\nnecessity of loving his infinite perfection. Thus morality in its most\nabsolute sense, in its highest degree, is infinite holiness; it is\nindependent of all freewill. God cannot cease to be holy.\n\n228. But it may be asked, why _must_ God love himself? This question\nhas no meaning if the matter is rightly understood; for it supposes\nthat what is entirely absolute can be exactly expressed in relative\nterms. The proposition: God _must_ love himself is not exact; strict\nexactness is expressed only in this: God loves himself; for it\nexpresses an absolute fact in an absolute manner. If it is now asked,\nwhy God loves himself; I answer that it might as well be asked, why\nGod knows himself, why he knows the truth, or why he exists; when we\ncome to these questions, we have arrived at the primitive origin, at\nabsolute, unconditioned things; therefore every _why_ is absurd.\n\n229. Morality can, therefore, be expressed in an absolute proposition.\nIt is in itself, in an infinite degree, an absolute truth; it implies\nan identity whose opposite is contradictory: it is not less connected\nwith the principle of contradiction than all metaphysical and\ngeometrical truths. Its simplest formula is: the infinite loves itself.\n\n230. God in his intelligence sees from all eternity an infinity\nof possible creatures. Containing in himself the ground of their\npossibility and of all their relations among themselves or to their\nCreator, nothing can exist independent of him; hence it is not possible\nfor any being to cease to be directed to God. The end which God\nproposed in the creation can be no other than himself; since before\nthe creation only God existed, and after the creation there were no\nperfections in creatures which were not contained in God in an infinite\ndegree, either formally or virtually. Therefore this direction of all\ncreatures to God as their last end, is a condition inseparable from\nthem, and seen by God from eternity in all possible worlds. Whatever\nis created or may be created is a realization of a divine idea, of\nthat which was represented in the infinite mind, with the absolute or\nrelative properties which pre-existed in that representation. Therefore\nwhatever exists or may exist must be subject to this condition, it must\nbe directed to God, without whom its existence would be impossible.\n\n231. Among the creatures, in which is realized the representation\npre-existing in the divine mind, there are some endowed with will,\nwhich is an inclination to what is known, and, by means of an act of\nthe understanding, becomes a principle of its own determinations.\nIf the creature knew God intuitively, the acts of its will would be\nnecessarily moral; for it would necessarily be an act of the love\nof God. The rectitude of the created will would then be a constant\nreflection of the infinite holiness, or of the love which God bears\nhimself. The moral perfection of the creature would not in that case be\nfree, though it would still be an eminent degree of moral perfection.\nThere would be a perpetual conformity of the created will to the will\nof God, for the creature loving God by a happy necessity, could will\nnothing but what God wills. The morality of the created will would be\nthis constant conformity to the divine will, which conformity would not\nbe distinguished from the essentially moral and holy act, by which the\ncreature would love the infinite being.\n\nBut since the knowledge of God is not intuitive, since the idea which\nthe creature has of God is an incomplete conception involving many\nindeterminate notions, the infinite good is not loved by necessity,\nbecause it is not known in its essence. The will has an inclination to\ngood, but to good indeterminately; and therefore it does not feel a\nnecessary inclination to any real object. The good is presented under a\ngeneral and indeterminate idea, with various applications, and to none\nof them is the will inclined necessarily; hence proceeds its freedom\nto depart from the order seen by God as conformed to his sovereign\ndesigns; when freedom, far from being a perfection, is a defect arising\nfrom the weakness of the knowledge of the being which possesses it.\n\n232. The rational creature conforming in its acts to the will of God,\nrealizes the order which God wills; loving this order, it loves what\nGod loves. If, although realizing this order, the creature in its\nfreedom does not love the order, but acts from motives independent of\nit, its will, performing the act materially, does not love what God\nloves; and here is the line which divides morality from immorality. The\nproper morality of an act consists in explicit or implicit conformity\nof the created will to the divine will; the mysterious perfections of\nmoral acts, that loveliness in them which charms and attracts us, is\nnothing else than conformity to the will of God; the absolute character\nwhich we find in morality is the explicit or implicit love of God, and,\nconsequently, a reflection of the infinite holiness, or of the love by\nwhich God loves himself.\n\nBy applying this doctrine to facts, we shall see more clearly still its\nperfect exactness.\n\n233. To love God is a morally good act; to hate God is a morally evil\nact, and of the most detestable character. Where is the morality of the\nact of loving God? In the act itself, the reflection of the infinite\nholiness, which consists in the love which God has for his infinite\nperfection; here is a palpable proof of the truth of our theory. The\nlove of the creature for the Creator has always been regarded as an\nessentially moral act, as the purest morality; which shows that in the\nsecondary and finite order, this act is the purest and most faithful\nexpression of absolute morality.\n\n234. If we ask why we must love God, we are ordinarily reminded of\nthe benefits which he has conferred upon us, of the love which he\nbears us, and even of the example of the love which we owe to our\nfriends and benefactors, and especially our parents; these reasons are\ncertainly very useful in order to make the morality of the act in some\nsense palpable, and to move our heart; but they are not completely\nsatisfactory in the field of science. For, if we could doubt that we\nought to love the infinite Being, the author of all beings, it is\nclear that we should also doubt that we ought to love our parents,\nour friends, or our benefactors. Therefore our love for them must be\nfounded on something higher, or else, when asked why we love them, we\nmust remain without an answer.\n\n235. To wish to perfect the understanding is a moral act in itself.\nWhence proceeds the morality of this act? God, in giving us\nintelligence, evidently wished us to use it. Its use, therefore, enters\ninto the order known and willed by God; in willing this order, we will\nwhat God wills; we love this order which God loved from all eternity,\nas a realization of his supreme designs; if, on the contrary, the\ncreature does not perfect his intellectual faculties, and making use\nof his freedom leaves these faculties unexercised, he departs from the\norder established by God, he does not will what God wills, he does not\nlove what God loves.\n\n236. A man may perfect these faculties merely for the sake of obtaining\nthe pleasure of being praised by others; in this case he realizes the\norder in the perfection of his understanding, but he does not do so\nfrom love of the order in itself, but from love of something distinct\nwhich does not enter into the order willed by God; for it is evident\nthat God did not endow us with intellectual faculties for the fruitless\nobject of obtaining each other's praise. Here, then, is the difference\nwhich we know, which we perceive between two equal actions done with\ndifferent ends: the will in one perfects the understanding as a simple\nrealization of the divine order; perhaps we may not be able to explain\nwhat there is there, but we know for certain that this will is right;\nin the other the will is the same, it wills the same thing, but it\nsuffers something foreign to this order to mingle with it; and the\nunderstanding and the heart both tell us this act which does something\ngood, is not good, it is not virtue,--it is meanness.\n\n237. There is a person in great want, but who, nevertheless, has every\nprobability of soon improving his fortunes, Lentulus and Julius each\ngive him an alms. Lentulus gives his, because he hopes that when the\npoor man is better off he will remember his benefactor, and assist\nhim if necessary. The action of Lentulus can have no moral value; in\njudging of it we see a calculation, not a virtuous act. Julius gives\nthe alms solely in order to succor the unfortunate man, who excites his\npity, without thinking of the return which may be made; the action of\nJulius is morally beautiful, it is virtuous. Whence this difference?\nLentulus does good, assisting the needy; but not from love of the\ninternal order of the act; he bends this order towards himself. God,\nwilling that men should stand in need of each other, also willed that\nthey should mutually help one another; to help one, therefore, simply\nin order to alleviate his wants is to realize simply the order willed\nby God; to help one for a particular end, is to realize this order\nnot as it is established by God, but as combined by man. There is a\n_complication_ of view, the _simplicity_ of intention is wanting,--this\nsimplicity so recommended by Christianity, and even in philosophy\ncontaining a profound meaning.\n\n238. Regarding the purely natural order, we find that all moral\nobligations have in the last result a _useful_ object; as all\nprohibitions are directed to prevent an injury; but it does not suffice\nfor morality, that we will its utility, we must will the order itself\nfrom which the utility results; for the greater the reflection, and\nthe love with which this order is willed, without any mixture of\nheterogeneous views, the more moral is the act.\n\nTo help the poor with the _simple_ view of assisting them, out of\nlove for them, is a virtuous act; to help them, out of this love, and\nwith the _explicit_ reflection that it is complying with a _duty_ of\nhumanity, is still more virtuous; to help them, for the thought of God,\nbecause you see in the poor man the image of God, who commands you\nto love him, is a still more virtuous act than either of the other\ntwo; to help them, even against the inclination of your own heart,\nexcited by resentment against them, or moved by other passions, to\nsubdue yourself with a firm will for the love of God, is an act of\nheroic virtue. Observe that the moral perfection of the act increases\nin proportion as the thing in itself is willed with greater reflection\nand love; and arrives at the highest point when, in the thing loved,\nit is God himself that is loved. If the views are selfish the order\nis perverted, and morality is banished; when there are no selfish\nviews, but the act is prompted principally by sentiment, the action is\nbeautiful, but belongs rather to sensibility than to morality; when\nthe sacrifice tears the heart, but the will preceded by reflection\ncommands the sacrifice, and the duty is performed because it is a duty;\nor perhaps an act not obligatory is done for the love of its moral\ngoodness, and because it is agreeable to God, we see in the action\nsomething so fair, so lovely, so deserving of praise, that we should\nbe confounded if asked the reason of the sentiment of respect which we\nfeel for the person who for such noble motives sacrifices himself for\nhis fellow-men.\n\nConformably to these principles we may clearly and exactly determine\nthe ideas of morality.\n\n239. Absolute morality, and consequently the origin and type of the\nmoral order, is the act by which the infinite Being loves his infinite\nperfection. This is an absolute fact of which we can give no reason _a\npriori_.\n\nIn God there is, _strictly_ speaking, no duty; there is the absolute\nnecessity of being holy.\n\n240. The act essentially moral in creatures is the love of God. It is\nimpossible to found the morality of this act on the morality of any\nother act.\n\n241. The acts of creatures are moral in so far as they participate of\nthis love, explicitly or implicitly.\n\n242. Creatures which see God intuitively, love him necessarily; and\nthus all their acts, stamped with this august mark, are necessarily\nmoral.\n\n243. Creatures which do not see God intuitively necessarily love good\nin general, or under an indeterminate idea; but they do not love\nnecessarily any object in particular.\n\n244. In this love of good in general, these free acts are moral, when\ntheir will wills the order which God has willed, without mingling with\nthis order foreign or contrary combinations.\n\n245. In order that an act may be moral, it is not necessary that the\none who performs it should think explicitly of God, nor that his will\nshould love him explicitly.\n\n246. The act is more moral, in proportion as it is accompanied with\ngreater reflection on its morality and its conformity to the will of\nGod.\n\n247. Moral sentiment was given us in order that we might perceive the\nbeauty of the order willed by God; it is, so to speak, an _instinct_ of\nlove of God.\n\n248. As this sentiment is innate, indelible, and independent of\nreflection, even atheists experience it.\n\n249. The idea of moral obligation or duty results from two ideas: the\norder willed by God, and the physical freedom to depart from this\norder. God granting us life, wills us to try to preserve it; but man is\nfree, and sometimes kills himself. He that preserves his life fulfils\na duty; he that destroys himself, infringes it. Thus the idea of duty\ncontains the idea of physical freedom, which cannot be exercised,\nin a certain sense, without departing from the order which God has\nestablished.\n\n250. Punishment is a sanction of the moral order; it serves to supply\nthe necessity which is impossible in free beings. Creatures that act\nwithout knowledge, fulfil their destiny by an absolute necessity; free\nbeings do not fulfil their destiny by an absolute necessity, but by\nthat kind of necessity produced by the sight of a painful result.\n\n251. Here may be seen the difference between physical evil and moral\nevil even in the same free being; physical evil is pain; moral evil is\nthe departure from the order willed by God.\n\n252. Unlawful is what is contrary to a duty.\n\n253. Lawful is what is not opposed to any duty.\n\n254. The eternal law is the order of intelligent beings, willed by God\nconformably to his infinite holiness.\n\n255. Intrinsically moral acts are those which form a part of the order\nwhich God (supposing the will to create such or such beings) has willed\nnecessarily, by force of the love of his infinite perfection. Such\nactions are commanded because they are good.\n\n256. The actions which are good because they are commanded are those\nwhich form a part of the order which God has willed freely, and of\nwhich he has given creatures knowledge.\n\n257. The command of God is his will communicated to creatures. If this\nwill is necessary, the precept is natural, if free, the precept is\npositive.\n\n258. Regarding the natural only, the order willed by God is that which\nleads to the preservation and perfection of created beings. Actions are\nmoral when conformed to this order.\n\n259. The natural perfection of beings consists in using their faculties\nfor the end for which their nature shows them to be destined.\n\n260. Nature has charged each individual to take care of his own\npreservation and perfection.\n\n261. The natural impossibility of man's living alone, shows that the\npreservation and perfection of individuals must be obtained in society.\n\n262. The first society is the family.\n\n263. Parents must support and educate their children; for without this\nthe human race could not be preserved.\n\n264. Conjugal duties arise from the order necessary for the\npreservation and perfection of the society of the family, which is\nindispensable for the preservation of the human race.\n\n265. The more necessary the connection of an act with the preservation\nand perfection of the family, the more necessary is its morality, and\nconsequently the less subject to modifications.\n\n266. The immorality of acts contrary to chastity, and especially\nof those against nature, is founded on great reasons of an order\nindispensable for the preservation of the individual and the species.\n\n267. Passions, because they are blind, are evidently given us as means,\nnot as ends.\n\n268. Therefore, when the gratification of the passions is taken, not\nas a means, but as the end, the act is immoral. A simple example will\nexplain this idea. The pleasure of eating has a very useful object in\nthe preservation of the individual; thus to eat _with_ pleasure is not\nevil, but good; to eat _for_ the pleasure of eating is to invert the\norder: the act is not good. The same action which in the first case is\nvery reasonable, in the second, is an act of _gluttony_. Common sense\nrenders any proof of this superfluous.\n\n269. If a man lived all alone, the use of his physical freedom could\nnever injure any one but himself; the moral limit of his freedom would\nbe to satisfy his wants and desires in conformity to the dictates\nof reason. But as men live in society, the exercise of the physical\nfreedom of one necessarily interferes with the freedom of others; to\nprevent disorder it is necessary that the physical freedom of each one\nshould be restricted a little, and that all should be subjected to\nan order conformed to reason and conducive to the general good; hence\nthe necessity of civil legislation. But as the legislation cannot\nbe established or preserved by itself alone, a public power becomes\nnecessary. The object of society is the general good, in subjection\nto the principles of eternal morality; the same is the object of the\npublic power.\n\n270. This theory explains satisfactorily the double character presented\nby the moral order: the absolute, and the relative. The heart, reason,\nand common sense force us to acknowledge in the moral order something\nabsolute and independent of the consideration of utility; this is\nexplained by rising to an absolute act of absolute perfection, and\nregarding the morality of creatures as a participation of that act.\nReason and experience teach that the morality of actions has _useful_\nresults; this is explained by observing that the absolute act includes\nthe love of the order which must rule among created beings in order\nthat they may fulfil their destinies. This order, then, is at the\nsame time _willed_ by God, and _conducive_ to the special end of each\ncreature; therefore it is at the same time both _moral_ and _useful_.\n\n271. But these two characters are always kept essentially distinct;\nthe first we _perceive_; the second we _calculate_. When the first is\nwanting, we are _evil_; when the second fails, we are _unfortunate_.\nThe painful result is _punishment_ when our will has knowingly violated\nthe order; otherwise, it is simply _misfortune_.\n\n272. I hope I may flatter myself that this theory is somewhat more\nsatisfactory than those invented by some modern philosophers for the\npurpose of explaining the absolute nature of morality. I had need of\nthe idea of God, it is true; but I conceive no moral order, if God be\ntaken from the world. Without God morality is nothing but a blind\nsentiment, as absurd in its object as in itself; the philosophy which\ndoes not found it on God, can never explain it scientifically; it must\nconfine itself to establishing the fact as a necessity whose character\nand origin they know nothing of.\n\n273. I shall add one observation which is an epitome of my whole\ntheory, and will show wherein it differs from others which likewise\nacknowledge that the foundation of the moral order is in God, and that\nthe love of God is the first of all duties. The systems to which I\nrefer, suppose the idea of morality to be distinct from the idea of\nthe love of God; but I say that the love of God is the _essence_ of\nmorality. Thus I assert that the infinite holiness is _essentially_ the\nlove with which God loves himself; that the first and essentially moral\nact of creatures is the love of God; that the morality of all their\nactions consists in explicit or implicit conformity to the will of God,\nwhich is the same as the explicit or implicit love of God.\n\nOne of the most remarkable results of this theory which places the\nessence of morality in the love of God, or of the infinite good, is\nthat it destroys the difference of form of moral and metaphysical\npropositions, showing that the _must_ and _ought_ of the former is\nreduced to the absolute _is_ of the latter.[97] The explanation of this\nimportant result is the following. The proposition: to love God is good\nmorally, is an absolute and identical proposition; for moral goodness\nis the same thing as the love of God.\n\n[97] See \u00a7\u00a7 210, 211, 212, and 213.\n\nThe proposition: to love our neighbor is good, is reduced to the\nformer, since to love our neighbor is, in a certain sense, to love God.\n\nThe proposition: to help our neighbor is good, is reduced to the last,\nfor to help is to love.\n\nThe proposition: man ought to preserve his life, is explained by this\nabsolute proposition: the preservation of man's life _is_ willed by\nGod. Thus the word _ought_ expresses the necessity that man should\npreserve his life, if he does not mean to oppose the order willed by\nGod.\n\nThese examples are enough to show how easily moral propositions may\nbe reduced to an absolute form. I cannot see how this is possible, if\ninstead of saying that the love of God is morality, we distinguish\nbetween morality and love, saying that the love of God is a moral act.\n\n274. Whatever judgment may be formed of this explanation, it cannot\nbe denied that by it, a profound wisdom, even in the natural and\nphilosophical order, is recognized in that admirable doctrine of our\ndivine Master, in which he calls the love of God the first and greatest\nof the commandments; and in which, when he wishes to point out the\ncharacter of the moral good, he especially designates the fulfilment of\nthe divine will.\n\n275. If we place the essence of morality in love, that which is moral\nmust appear beautiful, since nothing is more beautiful than love; it\nmust be agreeable to the soul, since nothing is more pleasing than\nlove. We see also why the ideas of disinterestednessss and sacrifice seem\nso beautiful in the moral order, and make us instinctively reject the\ntheory of self-interest; nothing more disinterested than love, nothing\nmore capable of great sacrifices.\n\n276. Thus egotism is banished from the moral order: God loves himself,\nbecause he is infinitely perfect; outside of him there is nothing to\nlove which he has not created. The love which he has for creatures is\ncompletely disinterested, since he can receive nothing from them. The\ncreature loves itself and also others; but what it loves in itself and\nin other creatures, is the reflection of the infinite good. It desires\nto be united to the supreme good, and in this it places its last\nhappiness; but this desire is united with the love of the supreme good\nin itself, which the creature does not love precisely for the reason\nthat thence results its own happiness.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXI.\n\nA GLANCE AT THE WORK.\n\n\n277. I have approached the term of my labor; and it is well to cast a\nglance over the long path which I have travelled.\n\nI proposed to examine the fundamental ideas of our mind, whether\nconsidered in themselves, or in their relations to the world.\n\n278. With regard to objects, we have found in our mind two primitive\nfacts; the intuition of extension, and the idea of being. All objective\nsensibility is founded on the intuition of extension; all the pure\nintellectual order in what relates to indeterminate ideas, is founded\non the idea of being. We have seen that from the idea of being proceed\nthe ideas of identity, distinction, unity, number, duration, time,\nsimplicity, composition, the finite, the infinite, the necessary, the\ncontingent, the mutable, the immutable, substance, accident, cause, and\neffect.\n\n279. We find in the subjective order, as facts of consciousness,\nsensibility, or sensitive being, (including, in this, sentiment as well\nas sensation,) intelligence, and will; whence we have intuitive ideas\nof determinate modes of being, distinct from extended beings.\n\n280. Thus all the elements of our mind are reduced to the intuitive\nideas of extension, sensibility, intelligence, and will, and the\nindeterminate ideas which are all founded on the idea of being.\n\n281. From the idea of being, combined with not-being, springs the\nprinciple of contradiction, which of itself produces only indeterminate\ncognitions. In order that science should have an object that could be\nrealized, the idea of being must be presented under some form. Our\nintuition gives two: extension, and consciousness.\n\n282. Consciousness presents three modes of being: sensibility, or\nsensitive being; intelligence, and will.\n\n283. Extension, considered in all its purity, as we imagine it in\nspace, is the basis of geometry.\n\n284. The same extension modified in various ways, and placed in\nrelation with our sensibility, is the basis of all the natural\nsciences, of all those which have for their object, the corporeal\nuniverse.\n\n285. Intelligence gives rise to ideology and psychology.\n\n286. The will, in so far as moved by ends, gives rise to the moral\nsciences.\n\n287. The idea of being begets the principle of contradiction; and, by\nthis principle, the general and indeterminate ideas, whose combination\nproduces ontology, which circulates, like a life-giving fluid, through\nall the other sciences.\n\n288. Such I conceive the tree of human science: to examine its roots\nwas the object of the _Fundamental Philosophy_.\n\n\n\n\nNOTES TO BOOK SEVENTH.\n\n\nON CHAPTER I.\n\n There are not wanting those who have believed that time is a thing\n very easily explained. Such is the opinion of Buffier in his\n celebrated _Trait\u00e9 des premi\u00e8res verit\u00e9s_.[98] After explaining in his\n own way in what duration and time consist, he adds:\n\n [98] Part II., ch. xxiii. De la dur\u00e9e et du temps.\n\n \"J'admire donc que tant de philosophes aient parl\u00e9 du _temps_ et de\n la _dur\u00e9e_ comme de choses inexplicables ou incompr\u00e9hensibles: _si\n non rogas, intelligo_, leur fait-on dire, et selon la paraphrase de\n Locke, _plus je m'applique \u00e0 d\u00e9couvrir la nature du temps, moins je\n la con\u00e7ois. Le temps qui d\u00e9couvre toutes les choses ne saurait \u00eatre\n compris lui-m\u00eame._ Cependant, \u00e0 quoi se r\u00e9duisent tous ces myst\u00e8res? A\n deux mots que nous venons d'exposer.\"\n\n It is strange that so distinguished a writer should not have known, or\n should not have remembered, that the difficulty of explaining time was\n acknowledged not only by the philosophers of whom he speaks, but even\n by so eminent a man as St. Augustine. The words to which he alludes\n are from St. Augustine, and are found in the fourteenth chapter of the\n second book of his confessions:\n\n \"Quid enim est tempus, quis hoc facile, breviterque explicaverit? Quis\n hoc ad verbum de illo proferendum vel cognatione comprehenderit ...\n quid ergo est tempus? Si nemo ex me qu\u00e6rat scio, si qu\u00e6renti explicare\n velim nescio.\"\n\n \"What is time? If no one ask me, I know, but if I wish to explain it,\n I know it not.\"\n\n The great doctor discovered here a profound question, and like all\n great geniuses when they find themselves in sight of a deep abyss, he\n felt a strong desire to know what was hidden in its bottom. Full of a\n holy enthusiasm, he turns to God, and begs him to explain this mystery:\n\n \"Exarsit animus meus nosse istud implicatissimum enigma. Noli\n claudere, Domine Deus, bone pater; per Christum obsecro, noli\n claudere desiderio meo ista et usitata, et abdita, quominus in ea\n penetret, et dilucescant allucente misericordia tua, Domine! Quem\n percunctabor de his? et cui fructuosius confitebor imperitiam meam\n nisi tibi, cui non sunt molesta studia mea flammantia vehementer\n in scripturas tuas? Da quod amo; amo enim, et hoc tu dedisti. Da,\n pater, qui vere nosti data bona dare filiis tuis. Da, quoniam suscepi\n cognoscere te; et labor est ante me donec aperias.\n\n \"Per Christum obsecro, in nomine ejus sancti sanctorum nemo mihi\n obstrepat. Et ego credidi propter quod et loquor. H\u00e6c est spes mea, ad\n hanc vivo, ut contempler delectationes Domini. Ecce veteres posuisti\n dies meos, et transeunt; et quomodo, nescio. Et dicimus, _Tempus et\n tempus, tempora et tempora. Quamdiu dixit hoc ille; quamdiu fecit hoc\n ille; et quam longo tempore illud non vidi; et duplum temporis habet\n h\u00e6c syllaba; ad illam simplam brevem._ Dicimus h\u00e6c, et audimus h\u00e6c: et\n intelligimur, et intelligimus. Manifestissima et usitatissima sunt, et\n eadem rursus nimis latent, et nova est inventio eorum. (Lib. XI., cap.\n xxii.)\n\n \"Video igitur tempus quamdam esse distensionem, sed video an videre\n mihi videor? Tu demonstrabis lux, veritas. (Cap. xxiii.)\n\n \"Et confiteor tibi (Domine) ignorare me adhuc quid sit tempus; et\n rursus confiteor tibi (Domine) scire me in tempore ista dicere, et\n diu me jam loqui de tempore, atque idipsum diu, non esse nisi moram\n temporis. Quomodo igitur hoc sciam, quando quid sit tempus nescio? an\n forte nescio quemadmodum dicam quod scio? Hei mihi qui nescio saltem\n quid nesciam! Ecce Deus meus coram te, quia non mentior; sicut loquor\n ita est cor meum. Tu illuminabis lucernam meam, Domine Deus meus;\n illuminabis tenebras meas.\" (Cap. xxv.)\n\n To present as easy things which seemed difficult to the greatest men,\n is, to say the least of it, rather bold. The author flatters himself,\n in such instances that he has settled the question when he has not\n penetrated beyond its surface. It often happens that objects seem\n very clear at first, and we only discover the difficulty which they\n present, when we examine them more closely. Ask a man unskilled in\n questions of philosophy, what extension is, or space, or time, and he\n will wonder that you find any difficulty _in things so clear_. And\n why? Because his first reflex act does not go beyond the ordinary idea\n of these objects, or rather, the use of this idea. Father Buffier\n says, in the chapter from which we quoted before:\n\n \"Dans toutes ces recherches de m\u00e9taphysique, si embarass\u00e9es en\n apparence, il ne faut, comme je l'ai dit d'abord, que distinguer les\n id\u00e9es les plus simples que nous avons dans l'esprit d'avec les noms\n qui y sont attach\u00e9s par l'usage, pour y d\u00e9couvrir ce qui nous doit\n tenir lieu de premi\u00e8re v\u00e9rit\u00e9 \u00e0 leur sujet.\"\n\n I do not deny that this observation presents a useful criterion; but\n I cannot see in it so simple a means of solving the most difficult\n questions of philosophy. For the difficulty is in distinguishing with\n exactness these simple ideas, which, because they constitute the\n foundation of our knowledge, are, for this very reason, generally\n placed at a greater depth, and covered over with a thousand different\n objects, which hinder us from perceiving them clearly and distinctly,\n Father Buffier was led astray by the very clearness of his explanation\n of time, and believed he saw the bottom of the abyss, when he only saw\n the reflection on its surface:\n\n \"Qu'est-ce que durer? C'est _exister sans \u00eatre d\u00e9truit_: voil\u00e0\n l'explication la plus nette qu'on puisse donner de la dur\u00e9e; mais le\n simple mot de _dur\u00e9e_ fait comprendre la chose aussi clairement que\n cette explication.\n\n \"Outre l'id\u00e9e de la dur\u00e9e, nous avons l'id\u00e9e de la mesure de la dur\u00e9e,\n qui n'est pas la dur\u00e9e elle-m\u00eame, bien que nous confondions souvent\n l'une avec l'autre; comme il arrive d'ordinaire de confondre nos\n sentiments ou avec leurs effets, ou avec leurs causes, ou avec leurs\n autres circonstances.\n\n \"Or, cette mesure de la dur\u00e9e n'est autre chose que ce que nous\n appelons le _temps_; et le temps n'est que _la r\u00e9volution r\u00e9guli\u00e8re\n de quelque chose de sensible_, comme du cours annuel du soleil, ou\n du cours mensuel de la lune, ou diurnal d'une aiguille sur le cadran\n d'une horloge.\n\n \"L'attention que nous avons \u00e0 cette r\u00e9volution r\u00e9guli\u00e8re fait\n pr\u00e9cis\u00e9ment en nous l'id\u00e9e du temps. L'intervalle de cette r\u00e9volution\n se divisant en de moindres intervalles forme l'id\u00e9e des parties du\n temps, auxquelles nous donnons aussi le nom de _temps_ plus long ou\n plus court, selon les divers intervalles de la r\u00e9volution.\n\n \"Quand nous avons une fois acquis cette id\u00e9e du temps, nous\n l'appliquons \u00e0 toute la dur\u00e9e que nous concevons ou que nous supposons\n r\u00e9pondre \u00e0 tel intervalle de la r\u00e9volution r\u00e9guli\u00e8re, et par l\u00e0 nous\n donnons \u00e0 la dur\u00e9e m\u00eame le nom de temps, appliquant le nom de de la\n mesure \u00e0 la chose mesur\u00e9e; mais sans que la dur\u00e9e qu'on mesure soit au\n fond le temps auquel on la mesure, et qui est une r\u00e9volution. Ainsi,\n Dieu a dur\u00e9 avant le temps, c'est-\u00e0-dire _a \u00e9t\u00e9 sans cesser d'\u00eatre\n avant la cr\u00e9ation du monde, et avant la r\u00e9volution r\u00e9guli\u00e8re d'aucun\n corps_.\"\n\n Here follows the passage already quoted, where the author shows his\n surprise that the explanation of time has been found so difficult.\n After giving his rule that _the simplest ideas must be separated from\n the terms which custom has joined to them_, he concludes with these\n words:\n\n \"Par ces deux moyens nous trouvons tout d'un coup l'id\u00e9e ou la notion\n de _dur\u00e9e_ et de _temps_: j'ai l'id\u00e9e d'un \u00eatre en tant qu'il ne cesse\n pas d'\u00eatre, c'est ce qui s'appelle _dur\u00e9e_; j'ai l'id\u00e9e de cette dur\u00e9e\n en tant qu'elle est mesur\u00e9e par la r\u00e9volution r\u00e9guli\u00e8re d'un corps\n ou par les intervalles de cette r\u00e9volution, c'est ce que j'appelle\n _temps_. Il me semble que ces notions sont aussi claires qu'elles\n peuvent l'\u00eatre, et celui qui cherche \u00e0 les \u00e9claircir davantage est \u00e0\n peu pr\u00e8s aussi peu sens\u00e9 que celui qui voudrait \u00e9claircir comment deux\n fois deux font quatre et ne font pas cinq.\"\n\n What explanation is contained in these passages? I can see none.\n Duration, says Buffier, is uninterrupted succession, and time is the\n measure of this duration. But he ought to have reflected that only\n what has quantity can be measured; and consequently duration cannot\n he measured, unless he supposes a length before the measure. This\n is precisely what the difficulty consists in. It is well known that\n time is measured by reference to the revolution of some quantity.\n But what he ought to have explained was, the nature of that which is\n measured, of this quantity, or length, independently of the measure.\n Measure requires _a greater and a less_, and this _greater and less_\n exists independently of all measure. What, then, is the nature of this\n quantity, of this _greater and less_?\n\n Father Buffier observes, that although there were no succession of\n thought in us, and we should have only one thought, we should still\n have the idea of duration as much as ever. This is true, if we make\n the idea of duration the same as the idea of uninterrupted existence.\n But on this hypothesis we could not measure this duration, and\n consequently could not have the idea of time.\n\n \"In God,\" says Buffier, \"there is no succession, for, does not his\n being endure always?\" No doubt of it; but this argument instead of\n confirming his doctrine, only shows its weakness. The duration of\n God cannot be measured unless we suppose a _greater and less_ in the\n duration of necessary and infinite being. Therefore, the idea of\n duration, or uninterrupted existence, does not give us the idea of\n time, or of a duration that can be measured.\n\n\nON CHAPTER IV.\n\n The denial of all succession in eternity, and making it all present,\n without any past or future, must not be regarded as a vain subtlety of\n the schools. Long before the scholastics this had been taught by the\n most eminent authors. St. Augustine says:\n\n \"Idipsum enim tempus tu feceras: nec pr\u00e6terire potuerunt tempora\n antequam faceres tempora. Si autem ante c\u0153lum et terram nullum\n erat tempus, cur qu\u00e6ritur quid tunc faciebas? Non enim erat tunc, ubi\n non erat tempus; nec in tempore tempora pr\u00e6cedis; alioquin non omnia\n tempora pr\u00e6cederes.\n\n \"Sed pr\u00e6cedis omnia tempora pr\u00e6terita, celsitudine semper pr\u00e6sentis\n \u00e6ternitatis: et superas omnia futura; quia et illa futura sunt; et\n cum venerint pr\u00e6terita erunt; _tu autem idem ipse es, et anni tui\n non deficient_. Anni tui nec eunt, nec veniunt: isti autem nostri,\n et eunt, et veniunt, ut omnes veniant. Anni tui omnes simul stant,\n quoniam stant; nec euntes \u00e0 venientibus excluduntur, quia non\n transeunt: isti autem nostri omnes erunt cum omnes non erunt. Anni tui\n dies unus: et dies tuus non quotidie, sed hodie: quia hodiernus tuus\n non cedit crastino neque succedit hesterno. Hodiernus tuus \u00e6ternitas;\n ideo co\u00e6ternum genuisti, cui dixisti: Ego hodie genui te. Omnia\n tempora tu fecisti, et ante omnia tempora tu es, nec aliquo tempore\n non erat tempus.\" (Conf. Lib. XI., cap. xiii.)\n\n In another place we find the same doctrine in these terms:\n\n \"Anni Dei \u00e6ternitas Dei est. \u00c6ternitas ipsa Dei substantia est, qu\u00e6\n nihil habet mutabile. Ibi nihil est pr\u00e6teritum, quasi jam non sit;\n nihil est futurum, quasi nondum sit. Non est ibi, nisi _est_. Non est\n ibi, _fuit_ et _erit_, quia et quod fuit jam non est; et quod erit\n nondum est; sed quidquid ibi est, non nisi est.\" (In Psal. 101; Serm.\n 2, num. 10.)\n\n Plato was not ignorant of this truth, and the holy fathers have\n constantly taught it. When the scholastics adopted the definition of\n Bo\u00ebthius, that eternity is _interminabilis vit\u00e6 tota simul et perfecta\n possessio_, they only embraced a doctrine as solid as it was universal.\n\n It is difficult to explain these sublime ideas in a more lofty or\n a more profound manner than Fenelon does in his _Treatise on the\n Existence of God_.[99]\n\n [99] II. part, ch. ii., \u00a7 9.\n\n \"C'est retomber dans l'id\u00e9e du temps, et confondre tout, que de\n vouloir imaginer en Dieu rien qui ait rapport \u00e0 aucune succession. En\n lui rien ne dure, parce que rien ne passe: tout est fixe; tout est \u00e0\n la fois; tout est immobile. En Dieu rien n'a \u00e9t\u00e9, rien ne sera; mais\n tout est. Supprimons donc pour lui toutes les questions que l'habitude\n et la faiblesse de l'esprit fini, qui veut embrasser l'infini \u00e0 sa\n mode \u00e9troite et raccourcie, me tenterait de faire. Dirai-je, \u00f4 mon\n Dieu, que vous aviez d\u00e9j\u00e0 une \u00e9ternit\u00e9 d'existence en vous-m\u00eame\n avant que vous m'eussiez cr\u00e9\u00e9, et qu'il vous reste encore une autre\n \u00e9ternit\u00e9, apr\u00e8s ma cr\u00e9ation, o\u00f9 vous existez toujours? Ces mots de\n _d\u00e9j\u00e0_ et d'_apr\u00e8s_ sont indignes de celui qui est. Vous ne pouvez\n souffrir aucun pass\u00e9 et aucun avenir en vous. C'est une folie que de\n vouloir diviser votre \u00e9ternit\u00e9, qui est une permanence indivisible:\n c'est vouloir que le rivage s'enfuie, parce qu'en descendant le long\n d'un fleuve, je m'\u00e9loigne toujours de ce rivage qui est immobile.\n Insens\u00e9 que je suis! Je veux, \u00f4 immobile v\u00e9rit\u00e9, vous attribuer\n l'\u00eatre born\u00e9, changeant et successif de votre cr\u00e9ature! Vous n'avez\n en vous aucune mesure dont on puisse mesurer votre existence; car\n elle n'a ni bornes ni parties; vous n'avez rien de mesurable:\n les mesures m\u00eame qu'on peut tirer des \u00eatres born\u00e9s, changeants,\n divisibles et successifs, ne peuvent servir \u00e0 vous mesurer, vous qui\n \u00eates infini, indivisible, immuable et permanent. Comment dirai-je\n donc que la courte dur\u00e9e de la cr\u00e9ature est par rapport \u00e0 votre\n \u00e9ternit\u00e9? N'\u00e9tiez-vous pas avant moi? Ne serez-vous pas apr\u00e8s moi?\n Ces paroles tendent \u00e0 signifier quelque v\u00e9rit\u00e9; mais elles sont \u00e0 la\n rigueur indignes et impropres. Ce qu'elles ont de vrai, c'est que\n l'infini surpasse infiniment le fini; qu'ainsi votre existence infinie\n surpasse infiniment en tout sens mon existence, qui, \u00e9tant born\u00e9e,\n a un commencement, un pr\u00e9sent et un futur. Mais il est faux que la\n cr\u00e9ation de votre ouvrage partage votre \u00e9ternit\u00e9 en deux \u00e9ternit\u00e9s.\n Deux \u00e9ternit\u00e9s ne feraient pas plus qu'une seule: une \u00e9ternit\u00e9\n partag\u00e9e, qui aurait une partie ant\u00e9rieure et une partie post\u00e9rieure,\n ne serait plus une v\u00e9ritable \u00e9ternit\u00e9: en voulant la multiplier, on\n la d\u00e9truirait, parce qu'une partie serait n\u00e9cessairement la borne\n de l'autre par le bout o\u00f9 elles se toucheraient. Qui dit \u00e9ternit\u00e9,\n s'il entend ce qu'il dit, ne dit que ce qui est, et rien au del\u00e0; car\n tout ce qu'on ajoute \u00e0 cette infinie simplicit\u00e9 l'an\u00e9antit. Qui dit\n \u00e9ternit\u00e9 ne souffre plus le langage du temps. Le temps et l'\u00e9ternit\u00e9\n sont incommensurables, ils ne peuvent \u00eatre compar\u00e9s; et on est s\u00e9duit\n par sa propre faiblesse toutes les fois qu'on imagine quelque rapport\n entre des choses si disproportionn\u00e9es. Vous avez n\u00e9anmoins, \u00f4 mon\n Dieu, fait quelque chose hors de vous; car je ne suis pas vous, et il\n s'en faut infiniment. Quand est-ce donc que vous m'avez fait? Est-ce\n que vous n'\u00e9tiez pas avant que de me faire? Mais que dis-je? Me voil\u00e0\n d\u00e9j\u00e0 retomb\u00e9 dans mon illusion et dans les questions du temps. Je\n parle de vous comme de moi, ou comme de quelque autre \u00eatre passager\n que je pourrais mesurer avec moi. Ce qui passe peut \u00eatre mesur\u00e9 avec\n ce qui passe; mais ce qui ne passe point est hors de toute mesure et\n de toute comparaison avec ce qui passe: il n'est permis de demander\n ni quand il a \u00e9t\u00e9, ni s'il \u00e9tait avant ce qui n'est pas, ou qui\n n'est qu'en passant. Vous \u00eates, et c'est tout. O que j'aime cette\n parole, et qu'elle me remplit pour tout ce que j'ai \u00e0 conna\u00eetre de\n vous! Vous \u00eates _celui qui est_. Tout ce qui n'est point cette parole\n vous d\u00e9grade. Il n'y a qu'elle qui vous ressemble. Eu n'ajoutant\n rien au mot d'\u00eatre, elle ne diminue rien de votre grandeur. Elle\n est, je l'ose dire, cette parole, infiniment parfaite comme vous. Il\n n'y a que vous qui puissiez parler ainsi, et renfermer votre infini\n dans trois mots si simples. Je ne suis pas, \u00f4 mon Dieu, ce qui est.\n H\u00e9las! je suis presque ce qui n'est pas. Je me vois comme un milieu\n incompr\u00e9hensible entre le n\u00e9ant et l'\u00eatre. Je suis celui qui a \u00e9t\u00e9; je\n suis celui qui sera; je suis celui qui n'est plus ce qu'il a \u00e9t\u00e9; je\n suis celui qui n'est pas encore ce qu'il sera; et dans cet entre-deux\n que je suis, un je ne sais quoi qui ne peut s'arr\u00eater en soi, qui n'a\n aucune consistance, qui s'\u00e9coule rapidement comme l'eau; un je ne sais\n quoi que je ne puis saisir, qui s'enfuit de mes propres mains, qui\n n'est plus d\u00e8s que je le veux saisir ou l'apercevoir; un je ne sais\n quoi qui finit dans l'instant m\u00eame o\u00f9 il commence; en sorte que je\n ne puis jamais un seul moment me trouver moi-m\u00eame, fixe et pr\u00e9sent \u00e0\n moi-m\u00eame, pour dire simplement: Je suis. Ainsi, ma dur\u00e9e n'est qu'une\n d\u00e9faillance perp\u00e9tuelle. O que je suis loin de votre \u00e9ternit\u00e9 qui est\n indivisible, infinie, et toujours pr\u00e9sente tout enti\u00e8re! Que je suis\n m\u00eame bien \u00e9loign\u00e9 de la comprendre! Elle m'\u00e9chappe \u00e0 force d'\u00eatre\n vraie, simple et immense; comme mon \u00eatre m'\u00e9chappe \u00e0 force d'\u00eatre\n compos\u00e9 de parties, m\u00eal\u00e9 de v\u00e9rit\u00e9 et de mensonge, d'\u00eatre et de n\u00e9ant.\n C'est trop peu que de dire de vous que vous \u00e9tiez des si\u00e8cles infinis\n avant que je fusse. J'aurais honte de parler ainsi; car c'est mesurer\n l'infini avec le fini qui est un demi-n\u00e9ant. Quand je crains de dire\n que vous \u00e9tiez avant que je fusse, ce n'est pas pour douter que vous\n existant, vous ne m'ayez cr\u00e9\u00e9, moi qui n'existais pas: mais c'est pour\n \u00e9loigner de moi toutes les id\u00e9es imparfaites qui sont au-dessus de\n vous. Dirai-je que vous \u00e9tiez avant moi? Non; car voil\u00e0 deux termes\n que je ne puis souffrir. Il ne faut pas dire, _vous \u00e9tiez_; car _vous\n \u00e9tiez_ marque un temps pass\u00e9 et une succession. Vous \u00eates: et il n'y\n a qu'un pr\u00e9sent, immobile, indivisible et infini que l'on puisse vous\n attribuer, pour parler dans la rigueur des termes. Il ne faut point\n dire que vous avez toujours \u00e9t\u00e9, il faut dire que vous \u00eates; et ce\n terme de _toujours_, qui est si fort pour la cr\u00e9ature, est trop faible\n pour vous; car il marque une continuit\u00e9 et non une permanence. Il vaut\n mieux dire simplement et sans restriction, que vous \u00eates. O Etre! \u00f4\n Etre! votre \u00e9ternit\u00e9, qui n'est que votre \u00eatre m\u00eame, m'\u00e9tonne; mais\n elle me console. Je me trouve devant vous comme si je n'\u00e9tais pas; je\n m'ab\u00eeme dans votre infini; et loin de mesurer votre permanence, par\n rapport \u00e0 ma fluidit\u00e9 continuelle, je commence \u00e0 me perdre de vue, \u00e0\n ne me trouver plus, et ne voir en tout que ce qui est; je veux dire\n vous-m\u00eame. Ce que j'ai dit du pass\u00e9, je le dis de m\u00eame de l'avenir.\n On ne peut point dire que vous serez apr\u00e8s ce qui passe; car vous ne\n passez point. Ainsi, vous ne serez pr\u00e9sent en parlant de vous. On ne\n dit point d'un rivage immobile, qu'il devance ou qu'il suit les flots\n d'une rivi\u00e8re: il ne devance ni ne suit; car il ne marche point. Ce\n que je remarque de ce rivage par rapport \u00e0 l'immobilit\u00e9 locale, je le\n dois dire de l'\u00eatre infini par rapport \u00e0 l'immobilit\u00e9 d'existence. Ce\n qui passe a \u00e9t\u00e9 et sera, et passe du pr\u00e9t\u00e9rit au futur par un pr\u00e9sent\n imperceptible, qu'on ne peut jamais assigner. Mais ce qui ne passe\n point existe absolument, et n'a qu'un pr\u00e9sent infini: il est, et c'est\n tout ce qu'il est permis d'en dire: il est sans temps dans tous les\n temps de la cr\u00e9ation. Quiconque sort de cette simplicit\u00e9, tombe de\n l'\u00e9ternit\u00e9 dans le temps.\"\n\n\nNOTE TO BOOK EIGHTH.\n\n (3) Perhaps some of my readers, who are not well acquainted with the\n history of philosophy, may think that I have extended the explanation\n of the idea of the infinite to too great length, and consider these\n questions as serving rather to subtilize, than to acquire solid\n knowledge. This is a great mistake. At all times the philosophical\n questions of the idea of the infinite have held a prominent position,\n and at the present time there is scarcely any which require to be more\n carefully examined, if we wish to stay the progress of pantheism.\n I shall not cease to repeat that a great many of the most serious\n errors have their birth in a confusion in their fundamental ideas;\n if one is well grounded in these ideas, he has nothing to fear from\n certain works whose secret in leading one astray, consists in using\n incomprehensible words, or in giving a false sense to those which can\n be understood. However this may be, I would remind those who believe\n these questions mere scholastic cavils, that they must regard as\n cavillers the most eminent philosophers of ancient and modern times.\n\n\nNOTE TO BOOK NINTH.\n\n (4) I know that some modern philosophers, and more especially M.\n Cousin, reject the accusation of pantheism, and explain in their own\n way those passages of their works in which this error is professed.\n As it is not possible for me to examine at any length, a question\n which would require the insertion of long extracts, I merely refer the\n reader to what I have said in the body of the work, and with respect\n to M. Cousin, to the extracts which I have made in my _Letters to a\n Skeptic in Matters of Religion, Letter I_. It is not the fault of M.\n Cousin's adversaries that he has used such clear expressions that no\n man of sound judgment can doubt that they contain a full profession\n of pantheism. Leaving to the philosopher the responsibility of his\n intentions, I shall only beg our young men not to judge lightly of the\n disputes of the neighboring kingdom, which are not always received\n here through faithful organs; and to withhold their faith from those\n who would attempt to persuade them that there is no ground for the\n alarms of men of sound philosophical doctrine.\n\n\nTHE END.\n\n * * * * *\n\n Transcriber's Notes\n\n Obvious typographical errors have been silently corrected.\n\n Variations in hyphenation have been standardised, but other variations\n in spelling, accents and punctuation are as in the original.\n\n Italics are represented thus _italic_.\n\n \u00a7 18, Book VII, fourth paragraph\n \"A space whose parts are not continuous, is not a space; neither is\n a time whose parts are not continuous, a space.\"\n The final space has been changed to time.\n\n Footnote 61 read \"III. Th. \u00a7 5, II., p. 256.\". From the context it\n appears that Ib., was omitted.\n\n Book X Chapter 1. The first sentence read\n \"1. Beings are divided into two classes: necessary and contingent;\n necessary being is that which cannot be;\"\n This has been changed to \"cannot but be;\"\n\n The repetition of the title of each book on consecutive pages at\n the beginning has been removed.","title":"Fundamental Philosophy, Vol. 2 (of 2)","tradition":"philosophy-ethics","translated_text":null,"word_count":164865}