Fundamental Philosophy, Vol. I (of 2)

233. We shall better understand the force of this observation by casting a glance at the scale of beings, and noting the difference in them in proportion to their perfection. The isolation of a being is a mark of its imperfection. The lowest idea of an object is that which we form when we conceive it absolutely limited to existence, completely inert, without either internal or external activity. A stone has existence and a determinate form; it is what it was made, and nothing more; it preserves the form which was given to it, but it has no activity to communicate with other beings, no consciousness of what it is; in all its relations it is passive; it receives but cannot give.

234. In proportion as beings rise in the scale of perfection, this isolation ceases; active properties are combined with the passive; such we conceive to be the corporeal agents, which, although they do not reach the category of living beings, take an active part in the production of phenomena in the laboratory of nature. In these beings we find besides what they are, what they can do; their relations with other beings are many and varied; their existence is not confined to the circle of their own existence; but it expands and is communicated in some way to others.

235. In organized beings we find a more expansive nature. Their life is a continual expansion. The living being extends in a measure beyond the limits of its own existence; for it bears within it the germs of its reproduction. Its existence is not for itself alone, but for others also. It is only an imperceptible link in the great chain of nature; but the vibrations of this link are felt in the remotest confines of the universe.

236. Life is still more extended when it becomes sensation. The sensitive being contains in himself, as it were, the universe. By the consciousness of its affections, it places itself in new relations with all that acts upon it. Perception is immanent, that is to say, it remains in the subject, but with the subjective is combined the objective, by which the universe is reflected on a point. Being does not then exist in itself alone, it becomes in some manner other things. There is a profound truth in the expression of the scholastics: "That which knows is the thing known." There is a certain order in sensations; they are more perfect in proportion as they are less subjective; the most noble are those which place us in communication with objects considered in themselves, – those which are not limited to the experience of what the objects cause in us, but include the knowledge of what the objects are.

237. Extension is the basis of the objectiveness of sensations, but it is not the direct and immediate object of sensation. Although extension teaches us something of the reality of beings as regards a certain arrangement of them among themselves, it is not so much the object of a sensitive faculty as of intelligence. Here sensation ceases and science commences. Science is not satisfied with what the objects appear. It penetrates to the reality; the understanding does not stop with the subjective, but passes to the objective, and when it cannot reach the reality, it wanders in the regions of possibility.

238. Thus we see that the perfection of beings is in proportion to their expansion. Accordingly as they are more perfect, they go farther out of their own sphere, and exercise a more extended activity. Hence the highest degree of perception is the least subjective; the lowest is sensation, which is limited to the experience of the sentient subject. Intelligence which is the highest degree, abstracts experience, and gives its whole attention to reality, its proper object.

239. If we could know the intimate nature of pure spirits, perhaps we should find that the sensitive faculties are altogether incompatible with the elevation of their intelligence, and that the analogy founded on the nature of our perceptions has no value when applied to a more perfect order of intelligence. However this may be, we must admit that the question would have been solved in a very incomplete way, if we had limited it to the single aspect of simplicity. These observations on the nature of intelligence ought to make us very cautious in affirming to be possible, what we should perhaps see to be impossible, if our knowledge of the nature of things were greater.

240. So far we have spoken only of the intrinsical possibility; what shall we say of the reality? This is a question of fact which can only be solved on data which our experience is unable to furnish, as we are not in immediate communication either with souls separated from bodies, or with pure spirits.

241. If we wish to look for an argument to prove that pure spirits and souls after they are separated from bodies, have no sensitive faculties, we shall find it in the consideration of the end to which these faculties are destined, better than by attempting to discover the essence of things. The body, to which the soul is united in this life, is an organization subject to the general laws of the corporeal universe. In order that the soul may rightly exercise its functions, it must be in constant communication with its own body and the bodies around it; it must have sensible intuition of the relations of bodies; it must be notified by pain of any disorder which occurs in its body, and guided by the sentiment of pleasure as by an instinct which, directed and moderated by reason, may point out to it what is profitable or necessary. When the soul is no longer united to the body, there is no reason why it should have these affections, as it does not require to be directed in its acts. As this applies equally to pure spirits, we may form a conjecture as to the cause of the difference which there must be between the state of our soul in this life, and that of spiritual beings which are not united to bodies.

This argument, deduced from the final cause, is not to be considered as a proof; at best it is only a conjecture: for we do not know how far the soul in its separate existence, or pure spirits, may be in relation with bodies; and consequently, we do not know whether these sensible affections would be useful or necessary for ends of which we have no conception. And even supposing that neither the soul nor pure spirits have any relations with bodies, we are far from sure that sensible affections would be useless to them. On the contrary, so far as we can form an opinion on the subject, it seems that to take from the soul its imagination and sensation, would be to deprive it of two of its most beautiful faculties; for they not only assist the understanding, but are often a strong motive of its acts.

242. It is difficult for us to form an idea of pleasure or pain, without sensible affections. In the purely intellectual will, we conceive only willing and not willing, acts of a most simple relation, which do not have for us the same meaning as a pleasant or unpleasant affection. We often wish a thing in which we experience pain; and as often find pleasure in what we do not wish. Therefore to wish and not to wish do not imply pleasure and displeasure, but are independent of these affections and may exist in opposition to them.

243. It might be said that the cause of this discord is in the disagreement of the sensitive with the intellectual faculties. This is true, but it proves nothing against what I have been saying. The purely intellectual will, in opposition with the sensible affections, does not involve pleasure or exclude pain. The will triumphs, it is true, but it does so by virtue of its freedom. Its triumph is like that of a master obliged to exact obedience by severe punishment, who experiences pain at the very time when he is obtaining the execution of his commands. Who can tell, then, whether the will, after this life, will be accompanied by affections similar to those which it now has, but purified from the grossness of the body which weighs down the soul? I see no intrinsical impossibility in it. If questions of philosophy could be solved by sentiment, I should not hesitate to express my opinion that this fair and noble union of faculties which we call the heart, does not go down to the grave, but flies with the soul to the regions of immortality.

244. As to the imagination, – that mysterious faculty which not only gives life to the real world, but possesses an inexhaustible activity in creating new worlds of its own, displaying before the eyes of the soul rich and splendid panoramas; why should it desert the soul on its separation from the body? Why may not the harmony of nature be perceived in a similar manner hereafter? Let us not advance opinions on secrets of which we are ignorant, but, at the same time, let us beware of setting bounds to the omnipotence of God. Sound philosophy should not multiply opinions beyond measure; but neither should it circumscribe within the limits of human reason the sphere of possibility.

CHAPTER XXXII.

POSSIBILITY OF THE PENETRATION OF BODIES

245. The more we meditate on the corporeal world, the more we discover the contingency of many of its relations, and the consequent necessity of recourse to a higher cause which has established them. Even those properties which seem most absolute cease to appear so when submitted to the examination of reason. What more necessary than impenetrability? Yet from the moment it is carefully analyzed, it becomes reduced to a fact of experience not founded on the nature of things, which consequently may exist or cease to exist without any contradiction.

246. Impenetrability is that property of bodies by which two or more cannot be in the same place at the same time. For those who do not make pure space a reality independent of bodies this definition has no meaning; for if place like pure space is nothing, to speak of the same place abstracted from bodies, is to speak of nothing. In that case, impenetrability can only be a certain relation either of bodies or of ideas.

247. Above all, we must distinguish the real order from the purely ideal. We may consider two kinds of impenetrability; physical impenetrability, and geometrical impenetrability. The physical is that which we see in nature; the geometrical that which is found in our ideas. Two balls of metal cannot be in the same place: this is physical impenetrability. The ideas of the two balls present two extensions which mutually exclude each other in the sensible representation: this is geometrical impenetrability. If we imagine two balls which perfectly coincide, they are no longer two, but only one; and if we imagine one ball to occupy a part of the other, we have a new figure, or, rather, one is considered as a portion of the other, and is consequently contained in the idea of the other, as a small ball inside of a larger ball. On either supposition the balls are regarded as penetrating each other in whole or in part; but by penetration is here meant only that there are certain parts in one, considered as pure space, which the other, also considered as pure space, occupies. Geometrical impenetrability exists only when the two objects are supposed to be separated, and only inasmuch as they are separated; in which case impenetrability is absolutely necessary, because penetration would be to confound what is by the supposition separated, and would imply separation and non-separation, which are contradictory. Therefore, geometrical impenetrability is no argument in favor of physical impenetrability; for the former exists only in case it is presupposed or required under pain of contradiction. The same would occur in reality; for if we suppose two bodies separated, they cannot be in the same place whilst they are separated, without a manifest contradiction. On this point, therefore, the ideal teaches us nothing as to the real.

248. Can penetration exist in reality? Can one ball of metal, for example, enter another ball of metal, as we make one geometrical ball enter another? We are not treating of the regular order of things which is repugnant to such suppositions, but of the essence of things. On this supposition, I maintain that there is no contradiction in making bodies penetrable, and that an analysis of this matter proves that the impenetrability of bodies is not essential.

We have seen that the idea of place as pure space is an abstraction. It is therefore an entirely imaginary supposition on which we give to every body a certain extension to fill a certain place, necessarily, and in such a manner that it is impossible for it to admit another body into the same place at the same time. The position of bodies in general is the sum of their relations; the particular extension of each body is only the sum of the relations of its parts among themselves, until we come by an infinite division to unextended or infinitesimal points.

The sum of the relations of indivisible or infinitesimal beings constitutes what we call extension and space, and all that is contained in the vast field of sensible representation. Who can assure us that these relations are not variable? Is our experience, perhaps, the limit of the nature of things? Evidently not. The universe was not planned after our experience, but our experience is obtained from the universe. To say that it contains, and can contain only what our experience sees in it, is to make the me the type of the universe; to affirm that its laws are derived from us, that they are emanations from our being. Foolish pride of an imperceptible atom, which appears for an instant on the great theatre of nature, and goes out like a spark of fire; foolish pride for a spirit which, despite its great idea of its own importance, feels that it is unable to withdraw itself from these laws and phenomena, which it pretends to consider as its own creation!

CHAPTER XXXIII.

A TRIUMPH OF RELIGION IN THE FIELD OF PHILOSOPHY

249. There are two things in extended objects: multiplicity and continuity. The first is absolutely necessary to extension; it supposes distinct parts, and that which is distinct cannot be identical without evident contradiction. The continuity represented in the sensible impression is not essential to extension, because it is only the result of a union of relations inseparable in the present order of sensibility, but not absolutely necessary in the order of reality. Transcendental philosophy rising above sensible representations, and leaving phenomena to enter on the contemplation of beings in themselves, nowhere discovers the necessity of these relations, and is obliged to consider them as simple facts which might cease to be without any contradiction. In this manner the correspondence of the phenomenon with the reality is saved, and the internal world harmonized with the external, but the subjective conditions of the former are not all transferred to the latter in such a way as to make what is necessary for our representations, absolutely necessary in itself.

250. Arrived at this point of transcendental philosophy, the mind beholds new worlds unfolded to its view. We rejoice to say that this discovers to us a new proof of the divinity of the Catholic religion, and teaches us to distrust that proud philosophy which finds a contradiction in every thing which it cannot understand.

251. There is a mystery which the Church celebrates with august ceremonies, and the Christian adores with faith and with love. The unbeliever sees the holy Tabernacle, and exclaims, in the pride of his ignorance: "Here is a monument of superstition; here man adores an absurdity."

As the present is a work of philosophy, not of theology, I might pass over without answering the objections of infidelity, but the occasion seems so well suited for the solution of some difficulties brought by light and superficial thinkers, that I am unwilling to pass them in silence. The nature of the work requires me to be brief in this discussion, though the subject is too important to be entirely omitted; the more so, as Catholic writers on philosophy have given their explanations on these points in what they considered the most seasonable place, and most frequently when treating of extension.

252. That the mystery of the Eucharist is a supernatural fact incomprehensible to man, and inexplicable by human words, is confessed by Catholics and acknowledged by the Church. We cannot, therefore, give a philosophical reason to explain this secret; no one was ever so vain as to attempt it. We can only examine whether the mystery is absurd and intrinsically contradictory; for if it were, it would not be a truth but an error, because divine omnipotence does not extend to what is absurd. The question is, whether the fact, although beyond the laws of nature, is intrinsically possible; for then it belongs to the field of criticism. If the incredulous man admits God, he must admit his omnipotence; the discussion must then be, not whether God can perform this miracle, but whether he has performed it.

253. The objections brought against the Eucharist may be reduced to the following: a body exists without the conditions to which other bodies are subject; it produces none of the sensible impressions which we receive from other bodies; and is in many places at the same time. To answer these objections, let us first determine our ideas.

254. The doctrines explained in the theory of sensations in this volume, show how false it is to say that the Eucharist is impossible. Under the sacred species is a body which does not affect our senses; here is a miracle, but not an impossible thing. I have shown that there is no necessary relation between bodies and our sensibility. The connection which now exists cannot be explained by any intrinsical property of spirits and bodies; we must, therefore, recur to a higher cause which freely established these relations. The same cause can suspend them. From this point of view the question becomes this: Can the power of God make a body which shall not produce the phenomena of sensibility, and suspend the laws which he was free to establish? Thus presented, the question cannot bear two answers. It must be answered in the affirmative, or the omnipotence of God is denied.

255. Those who attempt to show the impossibility of our dogma, must prove the following propositions:

I. Passive sensibility is so essential to bodies that they cannot lose it without destroying the principle of contradiction.

II. The relations of our organs [to] objects are intrinsically immutable.

III. The transmission of the impressions of the organ to the sensitive faculties of the soul is equally essential, and can fail under no supposition.

If they do not prove the truth of these three propositions, all the objections founded on the phenomena of sensibility fall to the ground. If one only is not proved, all the objections are solved; for it is evident that the phenomena of sensibility may be altered by three causes:

I. By the absence of the dispositions necessary to the body, that it may be the object of sensibility.

II. By the interruption of the ordinary relations between our organs and the body.

III. By the failure of the transmission of the impressions of the organ to the sensitive faculties.

Consequently, if one of the first propositions is false, the doubter is reduced to silence.

256. Whoever should attempt to prove these three propositions, not only would fail, but the attempt would prove his ignorance of the phenomena of sensibility, and that his philosophy on this point is the notions of the vulgar. It is not necessary to be a philosopher, it is sufficient to have acquired a very slight knowledge of philosophy to see that such an attempt would suppose a complete ignorance of the history of philosophy. At any rate, I need not insist on this point; for I have treated these questions at length in the last two books of this volume.

257. The solution there given ought to suffice to answer satisfactorily the objection founded on the particular state of a body without the conditions of extension which we find in others. From the moment that we suppose the correspondence of a body with our senses to be suspended, as these are the only means by which we are informed of what passes in the external world, it is impossible for us to affirm that there is any absurdity in that of which we have no experience. We perceive extension only by sensation, therefore we can say nothing in relation to the extension of an object of which we have no sensation. But although this answer should cut short all objections, I shall not confine myself to this alone.

258. What is extension? In reality it is the sum of the relations of the beings which compose the extended object. These relations, as I have proved, are not intrinsically necessary: therefore God can alter them. Thus this question comes to the same point as the preceding: can the power of God suspend, alter, or entirely take away relations which are not intrinsically necessary? Evidently it can. The difficulty then is not as to what could have been, but as to what is. Again we find ourselves out of the field of philosophy in that of facts, or the examination of the motives of credibility.

259. The other objection founded on the impossibility of body being in several places at the same time, though in appearance more difficult, amounts to the same as the former. To be in a place, as we now understand it, is to have a particular extension, with the ordinary form and relations with respect to the extension of other bodies. If we suppose a body with extension subject to other conditions, without the ordinary relation to the extension of other bodies, we destroy the supposition on which we base the impossibility of a body being at the same time in several places. Therefore, as we have proved that the omnipotence of God can alter and even take away these relations, there is no contradiction in admitting the destruction of the results which proceed from these relations.

260. This is why the distinction of the scholastics between two classes of extension: in ordine ad se, et in ordine ad locum, or quantitative and sacramental extension, though to the eyes of a superficial philosophy it might appear to be an empty subtlety, invented for the purpose of avoiding the difficulty, is nevertheless a profound observation, confirmed by the analysis of the reality and the phenomenon in the sensible order. I do not mean by this to say that when this distinction was made in the schools, they understood perfectly all the truth and philosophical nicety which it involves; nor that the distinction was always accompanied by the critical analysis which belongs to it. At present I abstract the merit of the men and regard only the thing. The less philosophical intelligence we suppose in those who used the distinction, the more admirable appears that religion which inspires its defenders with fruitful thoughts which the ages to come might unfold. The philosophical schools disputed warmly on extension, on accidents, and on the sensitive faculties: the Catholic dogma taught a truth which was contrary to all appearances, it stimulated them to examine more profoundly the distance of the phenomenon from the reality, the difference between the contingent and the necessary; the mystery which the Church taught introduced into philosophy questions which without it would probably never have occurred to man's understanding.

261. Bacon expressed a profound truth when he said that a little philosophy carried its possessor from religion, and a great deal of philosophy leads him to it. A careful study of the objections brought against Christianity, lays bare a truth confirmed by the history of eighteen centuries; the most weighty objections against Catholicity, instead of proving any thing against it, involve a proof which confirms it. The secret for discovering this proof, is to go to the bottom of the objection, and examine it under all its aspects. Original sin is a mystery, but it explains the whole world; the Incarnation is a mystery, but it explains the traditions of the human race; faith is full of mysteries, but it satisfies one of the greatest necessities of reason; the history of the creation is a mystery, but this mystery clears up chaos, throws light on the world, and is the key to the history of mankind; all Christianity is a collection of mysteries, but these mysteries are connected by a secret union with all that is profound, grand, sublime, or beautiful in heaven or earth; they are connected with the individual, with the family, with society, with God, with the understanding, with the heart, with languages, sciences, and art. The investigator who rejects religion and even seeks means to oppose it, finds it at the entrance as at the outlet of the mysterious ways of life; at the cradle of the infant as in the shadow of the tomb; in time as in eternity; explaining every thing by a word; listening unmoved to the wanderings of ignorance and the sarcasms of unbelief, patiently awaiting till the course of ages shall acknowledge its truth, which existed before all ages.