Fundamental Philosophy, Vol. I (of 2)

Happily, man possesses certainty independently of philosophical systems, not limited to phenomena of the soul, but extending as far as is needed in order to direct his conduct, both with regard to himself and to external objects. Before inquiring if there is certainty, all men were certain that they thought, willed, felt, that they had a body whose motions were governed by the will, and that there existed an assemblage of various bodies, called the universe. Since inquiries with regard to certainty were first instituted, it has remained the same with all men, even with those who disputed it; not one of whom could ever go farther than Pyrrho, and succeed in casting off human nature.

12. We cannot determine to what extent the force of mind of some philosophers, engaged in combatting nature, may have succeeded in creating doubt on many points, but certain it is: first, that no one ever went so far as to doubt the internal phenomena whose presence he felt inwardly; second, that if indeed any one ever did persuade himself that no external object corresponded to these phenomena, this must have been so strange an exception as to merit, in the history of science, and in the eyes of sound philosophy, no more weight than the illusions of a maniac. If Berkely went so far as to deny the existence of bodies, thus making the sophisms of reason triumph over the instincts of nature, he is alone, and in opposition to all mankind, and richly merits to have this saying applied to him: "Insanity is insanity still, no matter how sublime it may be."

Those very philosophers, who carried their skepticism the farthest, agreed upon the necessity of accommodating themselves in practice to the appearances of the senses, and of reserving doubt for the world of speculation. Philosophers may dispute on every thing as much as they please, but, the dispute over, they cease to be philosophers, and are again men, similar to other men, and, like them all, enjoy the fruits of certainty. This, Hume, who denied with Berkely the existence of bodies, confesses: "I dine," he says; "I play a game at backgammon; I converse, and am happy with my friends; and when, after three or four hours of amusement, I would return to these speculations, they appear so cold, so strained, and so ridiculous, that I cannot find it in my heart to enter into them any farther. Here, then, I find myself absolutely and necessarily determined to live, and talk, and act, like other people, in the common affairs of life."[2 - Treatise of Human Nature, vol. i., p. 467.]

13. We must, in discussing certainty, guard against the feverish desire of shaking the foundations of human reason. We should, in this class of questions, seek a thorough knowledge of the principles of science, and the laws which govern the development of our mind. To labor to destroy them is to mistake the object of true philosophy: we have only to make them a matter of observation, just as we do those of the material world, without any intention of disturbing the admirable order prevailing in the universe. Skeptics, who, in order to render their philosophy more solid, begin by doubting every thing, resemble the man, who, desirous of ascertaining, and exactly determining the phenomena of life, should bare his bosom, and thrust the knife into his heart.

Sobriety is as necessary to the health of the mind, as to that of the body: there is no wisdom without prudence, no philosophy without judgment. In the soul of man there is a divine light which directs him with admirable certainty. If we do not persist in extinguishing it, its splendor guides us, and when we reach the term of science it shows it to us, and makes us read in distinct characters the words, —enough, you can go no farther. These words are written by the Author of all beings; he it is that has given laws to the body as well as to the mind, and he contains in his infinite essence the ultimate reason of all things.

14. The certainty which is prior to all examination is not blind; on the contrary, it springs either from the clearness of the intellectual vision, or from an instinct conformable to reason: it is not opposed to reason, but is its basis. Our mind, in discursive reasoning, knows truth by the connection of propositions, or by the light which is reflected from one truth upon another. In primitive certainty the vision is by direct light, and does not need reflection.

When, then, we note the existence of certainty, we do not speak of a blind fact, nor do we seek to extinguish the light in its very source; we would rather say, that it is more brilliant there than in its radiations. We see a body whose splendor illumines the world in which we live; ought we, if requested to explain its nature and its relations with other objects, to begin by destroying these? When naturalists would examine the nature of light, and determine its laws, they do not begin by removing the light itself, and placing themselves in darkness.

15. True, this method of philosophizing is somewhat dogmatic, but dogmatic as it is, it has on its side, as we have seen, Pyrrho, Hume, and Fichte. It is not simply a method of philosophy, it is the voluntary submission of our very nature to an inevitable necessity, the combination of reason with instinct, a simultaneous attention to different voices calling from the depths of our soul. According to Pascal, "nature confounds the Pyrrhonians, and reason the dogmatists." This passes for a profound saying, and is so under a certain aspect; but it is notwithstanding somewhat inexact. The confusion is not the same in both cases: reason does not confound the dogmatist, unless he separates it from nature; but nature confounds the Pyrrhonian, either alone or joined with reason. The true dogmatist founds his reason upon nature; it knows itself, confesses the impossibility of proving every thing, and does not arbitrarily assume any principle that it needs unless nature itself furnishes it. And thus it does not confound the dogmatist, when guided by it he seeks a sure foundation for it. Nature, when it confounds the Pyrrhonian, attests the triumph of the reason of dogmatists, whose principal argument against Pyrrhonians, is the voice of nature itself. Pascal's thought would have been more exact if thus worded: nature confounds the Pyrrhonian and is necessary to the reason of dogmatists. This is less antithetical, but more true. Dogmatists do not deny nature; reason without it is impotent; to exercise its strength it needs a resting point. With such, Archimedes offered to move the earth, without this his immense lever could not stir a single atom.(2) (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER III.

CERTAINTY OF THE HUMAN RACE, AND PHILOSOPHICAL CERTAINTY

16. Certainty does not originate in reflection; it is the spontaneous product of man's nature, and is annexed to the direct act of the intellectual and sensitive faculties. It is a condition necessary to the exercise of both, and without it life were a chaos; we therefore possess it instinctively, and without any reflection, and we enjoy the fruit of this as of all those other benefits of the Creator, which are inseparably joined to our existence.

17. It is, then, necessary to distinguish between the certainty of the human race and philosophical certainty, although, to speak frankly, it is not easy to conceive what can be the value of any human certainty distinct from that of the human race. If we set aside the efforts which the philosopher sometimes makes to discover the basis of human knowledge, we shall readily find him confounded with the rest of mankind. This cavil leaves no trace in his mind with respect to the certainty of all that the human race is certain of. He then discovers that the doubt which he felt was not a real doubt, although he may have deluded himself into a contrary belief. His doubts were simple suppositions, nothing more. When his meditation is over, and perhaps even while it lasts, he finds that he is as certain as the most ignorant individual of his internal acts, the existence of his own body, of other bodies around him, and of a thousand other things, which constitute the amount of knowledge requisite to the wants of life.

Question all, from the infant of a few summers, to the sage of many years and mature judgment, on the certainty of their own existence, their acts internal or external, their friends and relatives, the people among whom they dwell, objects seen or heard of, and you will not detect any hesitation in their answers, or any kind of difference in the grades of their certainty. If they have no knowledge of the philosophical questions touching these matters, you may read in their countenances wonder and astonishment that any one should seriously investigate things so evident.

18. Impossible as it is for us to know in what manner the sensitive, intellectual, and moral powers of children are developed, it is equally impossible to prove a a prior, by analyzing the operations of his mind, that reflex acts do not concur to the formation of certainty; but it will not be difficult to find proofs of this in the exercise of these faculties when well developed. If we observe attentively, we shall see that the child's faculties habitually operate in a direct, not a reflex manner; which shows that the development is made directly, not by reflection. Were the primitive development the work of reflexion, the reflective power would be great in the child. But this is not the case. Very few men are ever endowed with it, and in the greater part of them it is very nearly null. They who attain to it, acquire it only by assiduous labor, and not without great violence to himself, can any one pass from direct to reflex cognition.

19. No matter what you teach a child, he perceives it indeed, but call his attention to the perception itself, and his understanding is at once obscured and confused. Let us make the experiment. Suppose we would teach a child the elements of geometry.

"Do you see this figure bounded by three lines? It is called a triangle; the lines are called sides, and the points where they unite the vertices of the angles." – "I understand that." – "Do you see this other figure bounded by four lines? It is called quadrilateral, and, like the triangle, has its sides and vertices of angles." – "Very well." – "Can a quadrilateral figure be a triangle, or vice versa?" – "It cannot." – "Never?" – "Never." – "Why not?" – "One has three, and the other four sides: how then can they be the same thing?" – "Who knows? It may seem so to you, but – " – "See here! This has three, and this four sides; and three and four are not the same thing."

Torture his understanding as much as you please, but you cannot drive him from his position: and thus we see that his perception and his reason operate directly, that is, by direct application to the object. Of himself he does not direct his attention to his own internal acts, does not think upon his own thoughts, does not combine reflex ideas, nor seek in them the certainty of his judgment.

20. And here we detect a vital error in the art of thinking as it has hitherto been taught. The young intellect is exercised in reflection, the most difficult part of science, which is as inconsiderate as it would be to commence his physical development by the most painful gymnastic exercises. Man's scientific development should be governed by his natural development, which is direct not reflex.

21. Let us apply this remark to the exercise of the senses. "Do you hear that music?" asks the child. – "What music?" – "Did you not hear it? Are you deaf?" – "It seems to you that you hear it." – "But, sir, I hear it so distinctly! How can it be possible?" – "But how do you know?" – "I hear it."

From his I hear it you cannot drive him: he will not hesitate a moment, nor will he appeal to any reflex act in order to avoid your importunities. "I hear it: do not you hear it?" He asks nothing more, and all your philosophy cannot equal the irresistible force of sensation which assures him that there is music, and that whoever doubts it is either deaf or in jest.

22. Had the faculties of the child been developed by alternate direct and reflex acts; had he, when acquiring knowledge of things, thought of something besides the things themselves; evidently a continuation of such acts would have left some impression on his mind, and urged to assign the motives of his certainty, he would indicate those very means that he made use of in the gradual development of his faculties; he would abstract the object, retire into himself, think upon his own thought in one way or another, and thus encounter the difficulty. Nothing of this character takes place, which proves that no such reflex acts have been performed, that there have been only perceptions accompanied by internal consciousness and certainty of their existence; but all in a confused, instinctive manner, without any thing like philosophical reflection.

23. What has been said of the child, may be proved true also of adults, however clear and perfect their intellect. If not initiated into questions of philosophy, they will give very nearly the same answers to difficulties proposed on the same matters, and even upon many others more exposed to doubt. Experience proves better than all ratiocination that no one acquires certainty by reflex acts.

24. Philosophers teach that the sources of certainty are the internal sense or consciousness of acts, the external senses, common sense, reason, and authority. A few examples will show us that there is reflection in all these, and how most men, and even philosophers, when they act like men and not like philosophers, think.

25. Suppose a clear-headed person, one however who is ignorant of the questions of certainty, has just seen some monument, the Escurial for instance, which leaves a lively and lasting impression on his mind, and while he recollects his gratification on seeing it, try to make him doubt the existence of this recollection in his mind, and its correspondence as well with the act of seeing as with the edifice itself, and he will very certainly think you are in jest, or will be astounded, and will suspect you of being out of your senses. He discovers no difference between things different as are the actual existence of his recollection, its correspondence with the past act of seeing, and the agreement of both with the edifice seen. He knows in this case no more than a child of six years: "I recollect it, I saw it, it is as I recollect it." This is all his science: he neither reflects, nor separates; all is direct and simultaneous.

No matter what suppositions you make, you can never get from the majority of men any better account of the phenomena of the internal sense, than you got from the supposed individual's recollection of the Escurial: "all that I know is that it is so." There are here no reflex acts; certainty attends the direct act, and no philosophical considerations can add one iota to the security given by the very force of things, and the instinct of nature.

26. Example of the testimony of the senses.

If we see any object, no matter what, at a proper distance and in sufficient light, we judge of its size, figure, and color, and we are very confident of the truth of our judgment, although we may never, in all our life, have thought of a theory of sensation, or of the relations of our organs, either to each other or to external objects. No reflex act accompanies the formation of our judgment; all is done instinctively, and without the intervention of philosophical considerations. We see it, and nothing else: this is enough for certainty. It is only after having handled books in which the question of certainty is agitated, that we turn our attention to our own acts; but this attention, it is to be remarked, lasts only so long as we are engaged in the scientific analysis; when this is forgotten, which it very soon is, we return to our general routine, and seldom recur to philosophy.

Note well that we speak here of the certainty of the judgment formed in consequence of sensation only in so far as it is connected with the uses of life, and not at all of its greater or less exactness with respect to the nature of things. Thus it matters little that we consider colors as inherent qualities of bodies, although in reality they are not; it is sufficient that the judgment formed does not in any sense change our relations to objects, whatever may be the philosophical theory.

27. Example of common sense.

In the presence of a numerous assembly, throw a quantity of printer's types at random upon the ground, and tell the bystanders that their names will all be found printed. They will all with one accord laugh at your folly. But what is the reason of this? Have they all reflected upon the basis of their certainty? Assuredly they have not.

28. Example of reason.

We all reason, and in many cases rightly. Without art or reflection of any kind, we often distinguish the solid from the futile, the sophistical from the conclusive. This does not require us to regard the course of our understanding; without scarcely noticing it we follow the right road; and a man may, in his life, have formed a thousand rigorous and exact ratiocinations without ever having once attended to his method of reasoning. Even those most versed in the dialectic art, repeatedly forget it; they perhaps follow it very correctly in practice, but they pay no express attention to any one of its rules.

29. Ideologists have written whole volumes on the operations of our understanding, and the simple rustic performs these operations without thinking that he performs them. How much has been written on abstraction, generalization, and universals! Yet this is all well regulated in the mind of every man, ignorant as he may be of a science which examines it. In his language you will find the universal and the particular expressed, and every thing occupying its proper place in his discourse: he encounters no difficulty in his direct acts. But call his attention to these acts themselves, to abstraction for example; and what was in the direct act so clear and lucid, becomes a chaos the moment it passes to the reflex order.

Thus we see that reflection, whose object is the act performed, is of very little importance even in reasoning, its most reflective medium.

30. Example of authority.

All civilized people know the existence of England, but most of them know this only from having heard or read of it, that is, by authority. Their certainty of the existence of England evidently is not surpassed by that of objects of their own vision; and yet how many of them have ever thought of analyzing the foundations of such a certainty? Yet is the certainty of those who have examined it greater than that of those who have not examined it? In the present case, as in an infinity of others analogous to it, there is no intervention of reflex acts: certainty is here formed instinctively, and needs no medium invented by philosophers.

31. These examples show that philosophers take a very different road to certainty from that taught by nature. He who created all things out of nothing, has provided them with all that is necessary to the exercise of their functions according to their respective positions in the universe; and one of the first necessities of an intelligent being is the certainty of some truths. What would become of us, if before beginning to receive impressions, and before the germination of primary ideas in our understanding, we were obliged to perform the painful task of elaborating some system capable of saving us from uncertainty? Were it thus, our intellect would perish at its very birth, for no sooner would it open its eyes to the light than it would be involved in the chaos of its own cavils, and it could never, with its scattered forces, succeed in dissipating the clouds which would arise on all sides, and which would finally sink it in total darkness.

If the greatest philosophers, the most clear and acute intellects, the strongest and most vigorous geniuses have labored to so little purpose to establish solid principles, such as might serve for the foundations of science, what would have happened had not the Creator succored us in this necessity, and given certainty to the tender intellect, just as he prepared for the preservation of the body the milk that nourishes and the air that vivifies it?

32. If any part of science ought to be regarded as purely speculative, it is undoubtedly the part which concerns certainty; and this proposition, paradoxical as it may seem at first sight, is true, and can be easily demonstrated.

33. What does philosophy here propose to do? To produce certainty? But it exists independently of all philosophical systems, and mankind were certain of many things before ever any one thought of such questions. Moreover, since the question was first raised, few, compared with the whole human race, have examined it; so it is now, and so it will be; and all the theories invented on this point can have no effect upon the fact of certainty. What has been said of its production may be said of the attempt to consolidate it. When have the generality of men had, or when will they have, time and opportunity to examine these questions?

34. Philosophy could here have produced nothing but skepticism, for the variety and opposition of systems were more calculated to create than to dissipate doubts. Happily nature is the most invincible opponent of skepticism; the sage's dreams pass not from his library to the every day uses of the life of ordinary men, or even of those who labor under or imagine them.

35. Philosophy here can propose to itself no more reasonable object than simply to examine the foundations of certainty, with the sole view of more thoroughly knowing the human mind, not of making any change in practice; just as astronomers observe the course of the stars, investigate and determine the laws to which they are subject, without therefore presuming to be able to modify them.

36. But even this supposition places philosophy in a very unsatisfactory position; for if we recollect what we have already established, we shall see that science observes a real and true phenomenon, but gives it a gratuitous explanation, by making an imaginary analysis of it.

Experience has in fact shown our understanding to be guided by no one of the considerations made by philosophers; its assent, when it is accompanied by the greatest certainty, is a spontaneous product of a natural instinct, not of combinations; it is a firm adhesion exacted by the evidence of the truth, the power of the internal sense, or the impulse of instinct; not a conviction produced by a series of ratiocinations. These combinations and ratiocinations therefore exist only in the mind of philosophers, not in reality; when, therefore, they attempt to designate the foundations of certainty, we are told what could or should have been, but not what is.

If philosophers would only be guided by their own systems, and would not forget them nor set them aside as soon as, or even before, they have finished explaining them, it might be said, that even if no reason can be given for human certainty, one can be given for philosophical certainty; but since these same philosophers make no use of these scientific means save when developing them ex professo, it follows that their pretended foundations are a mere theory, having little or no connection with the reality.

37. This demonstration of the vanity of philosophical systems relating to the foundation of certainty, far from leading to skepticism, has a directly contrary tendency; for it makes us appreciate at their true value, the emptiness of our cavils, compares their impotence with the irresistible force of nature, and thus destroys that foolish pride which would make us superior to the laws imposed upon our understanding by the Creator himself; it places us in the channel through which the torrent of humanity has for ages run; and it disposes us to receive with sound philosophy what the laws of our nature force us to accept.(3) (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER IV.

EXISTENCE OF TRANSCENDENTAL SCIENCE IN THE ABSOLUTE INTELLECTUAL ORDER

38. Philosophers have sought a first principle of human knowledge; each has assigned his own, and now after so much discussion it is doubtful who is right, or even if any one is right.

Before inquiring what the first principle is, they ought to have ascertained whether there be any such principle. We cannot suppose this last question to be answered affirmatively; for it is, as we shall hereafter see, susceptible of different solutions, according to the aspect under which it is seen.