Fundamental Philosophy, Vol. 2 (of 2)

Upon nothing, nothing can be founded; consequently, not even possibility. The connection of necessary relations which we discover in possible beings, must have a primitive type to which they refer: but in nothing there are no types.

160. The assemblage of human understandings cannot establish possibility. No one of them considered isolately is necessary to general truth; and all together cannot have what no one of them has. We conceive necessary truth, absolutely abstracted from the human understanding: individual understandings appear and disappear, but work no change in the relations of possible beings: on the contrary, the understanding needs, in order to exercise its functions, a collection of pre-existing truths, and without them it cannot work.

What any one individual understanding requires, all require. Their union does not increase the strength of each one: since this union is nothing more than an assemblage formed in our mind, and may not correspond to any thing in reality except the individual understandings, and their respective strength.

161. Necessary truths, therefore, exist before human reason; but their pre-existence is an unmeaning word, if they be not referred to a being, the origin of all reality, and the foundation of all possibility. There is then no impersonal reason properly so called; there is a community of reason in so far as one and the same light illumines all finite intelligences; God the creator of them all.

CHAPTER XXVI.

REMARKS ON THE REAL FOUNDATION OF PURE POSSIBILITY

162. Since the argument proving the necessity of a being in which is laid the foundation of all the relations in the possible order, is one of the most transcendental in all metaphysics, and at the same time one of the most difficult to be perfectly understood, we judge it advisable to enlarge somewhat upon the considerations thrown out in the preceding chapter.

An example, in which we undertake to establish the possibility of things, independently of a being in which is found the reason of all, will serve our purpose better than abstract reflections.

163. "Two circles of equal diameters are equal." This proposition is evidently true. Let us analyze its meaning. The proposition refers to the possible order, and abstracts absolutely the existence of the circles and of the diameters. No case is excepted; all are comprised in the proposition.

164. Neither does the truth refer to our mode of understanding; but on the contrary, we conceive it as independent of our thought. Were we asked, what would become of this truth were we not to exist, we should without hesitation reply that it would be the same, that it acquired nothing by our existence, that it would lose nothing by our extinction. If we believed this truth to depend in any way upon us, it would cease to be what it is, it would no longer be a necessary but a contingent truth.

165. Nor is the corporeal world indispensable to the truth and necessity of the proposition: on the contrary, if we suppose no body to exist, the proposition would lose none of its truth, necessity, or universality.

166. What would happen, if, withdrawing all bodies, all sensible representations, and even all intelligences, we should imagine absolute and universal nothing? We see the truth of the proposition even on this supposition; for it is impossible for us to hold it to be false. On every supposition, our understanding sees a connection which it cannot destroy: the condition once established, the result will infallibly follow.

167. An absolutely necessary connection, founded neither on us, nor on the external world, which exists before any thing we can imagine, and subsists after we have annihilated all by an effort of our understanding, must be based upon something, it cannot have nothing for its origin: to say this, would be to assert a necessary fact without a sufficient reason.

168. It is true that in the proposition now before us, nothing real is affirmed; but if we reflect carefully, we find even here the greatest difficulty for those who deny a real foundation to pure possibility. What is remarkable in this phenomenon, is precisely this, that our understanding feels itself forced to give its assent to a proposition which affirms an absolutely necessary connection without any relation to an existing object. It is conceivable that an intelligence affected by other beings may know their nature and relations; but it is not so easy of comprehension how it can discover their nature and relations in an absolutely necessary manner, when it abstracts all existence, when the ground upon which the eyes of the understanding are fixed, is the abyss of nothing.

169. We deceive ourselves when we imagine it possible to abstract all existence. Even when we suppose our mind to have lost sight of every thing, a very easy supposition, granting that we find in our consciousness the contingency of our being, the understanding still perceives a possible order, and imagines it to be all occupied with pure possibility, independent of a being on which it is based. We repeat, that this is an illusion, which disappears so soon as we reflect upon it. In pure nothing, nothing is possible; there are no relations, no connections of any kind; in nothing there are no combinations, it is a ground upon which nothing can be pictured.

170. The objectivity of our ideas and the perception of necessary relations in a possible order, reveal a communication of our understanding with a being on which is founded all possibility. This possibility can be explained on no supposition except that which makes the communication consist in the action of God giving to our mind faculties perceptive of the necessary relation of certain ideas, based upon necessary being, and representative of his infinite essence.

171. Without this communication the order of pure possibility means nothing: none of the combinations referable to it contain any truth: and this ruins all science. There can be no necessary relations if there be no necessity upon which they are based, and where they are represented; if this condition be wanting, all cognitions must refer to something actually existing; they are even limited to what appears, to what affects us, and they cannot affirm any thing beyond the actual order. Science, in this supposition, is unworthy of the name; it is nothing but a collection of facts, gathered together in the field of experience; we cannot say: "This will be, or will not be; this may be, or may not be;" we are necessarily limited to what is; or, rather, we ought to confine ourselves to that which affects us by simple appearances, and never be able to rise above the sphere of individual phenomena.

CHAPTER XXVII.

INDIVIDUAL AND INTELLECTUAL PHENOMENA EXPLAINED BY THE UNIVERSAL SUBSISTING REASON

172. Starting from the phenomena observable in individual reason, we have arrived at universal reason. Let us, so to speak, make the counterproof; taking this universal subsisting reason, let us see if individual reason in itself and in its phenomena can be explained by it.

I. What are necessary truths? They are the relations of beings, such as they are represented in the being which contains the plenitude of being. These necessary truths, then, stand in need of no individual finite reason; their reason is found in an infinite being.

II. The essence of all beings, abstracted from all particular beings, is something real, not in itself, and separately, but in the being which contains the plenitude of every thing.

III. On this supposition science is not full of empty words, nor of mere creations of our reason, but of necessary relations represented in a necessary being, and known by it from all eternity.

IV. Science is possible; there is some necessity in contingent objects; their destruction does not destroy the eternal types of all being, the only object of science.

V. All individual reason, sprung from the same source, participates in one same light, lives one same life, has one and the same patrimony, is indivisible in the creative principle, but divisible in creatures. The unity, then, or rather the uniformity or community of human reason is possible, is necessary.

VI. The reason, then, of all men is united by the infinite intelligence: God then is in us; and the most profound philosophical truth is contained in these words of the Apostle: "In ipso vivimus, movemur, et sumus."

VII. All philosophy, therefore, which seeks to explain reason, by isolating it, considers only particular phenomena unconnected by a general bond, pretends to construct the magnificent fabric of our reason upon particular facts alone, but does not appeal to a common origin, to one source of light whence all lights have sprung, is a false philosophy, is superficial, at war with theory, and in contradiction with facts. When we reflect upon this, we can but pity Locke, and still more Condillac, and their explanations of human reason by sensations alone.

VIII. Thus we understand why we cannot give the reason of many things; we see them; they are thus: they are necessary; more we cannot say. A triangle is not a circle: what reason can we assign for this? None! It is so; this is all. But why? Because there does actually exist an immediate necessity in the relation represented in the infinite being, which is truth by essence. The same infinite intelligence sees no greater reason of itself, than in itself. It finds every thing, and the relations of all things in the plenitude of its being; but beyond them is nothing. He gave to individual reason, when creating it, an intuition of these relations: no discursion proves them; we see them; this is all.

IX. Some even who admit the subjective value of ideas, either doubting or denying their objectivity, lose sight of this fact. They seek an argument, where there is need only of a vision; they demand degrees where there are none. When human reason sees certain truths, it cannot go farther and doubt of them. It is subject to a primitive law of its nature, which it cannot abstract without ceasing to be what it is. By the very act of seeing the object it is sure of it; the difference between subjectivity and objectivity falls within the space of inferences, but not within that of immediate reason, or the understanding of necessary truths.

173. We leave it to the reader's judgment whether the preceding explanation is more satisfactory than that by impersonal reason; the theory we have attempted to expound has been held by all the most eminent metaphysicians. With God, all is clear; without God, all is a chaos. This is true in the order of facts, and not less so in the order of ideas. Our perception is also a fact; our ideas likewise are facts; over all presides an admirable order; a chain which cannot be destroyed unites all; but neither this order nor this chain depends upon this. The word reason has a profound meaning, for it refers to the infinite intelligence. What is true for the reason of one man cannot be false for the reason of another; there are, independently of all communication among human minds, and of all intuition, truths necessary for all. We must, if we would explain this unity, rise above ourselves, must elevate ourselves to that great unity in which every thing originates, and to which every thing tends.

174. This point of view is high, but it is the only one; if we depart from it we can see nothing, but are forced to use unmeaning words. Sublime and consoling thought! Although man disputes upon God, and perhaps denies him, he has God in his understanding, in his ideas, in all that he is, in all that he thinks; the power of perception communicates God to him; objective truth is founded on God; he cannot affirm a single truth without affirming a thing represented in God. This intimate communication of the finite with the infinite, is one of the most certain truths of metaphysics. Although ideological investigations should produce no other result than the discovery of so important a truth, we ought to consider the time spent in them well improved.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

OBSERVATIONS ON THE RELATION OF LANGUAGE TO IDEAS

175. The relation between thought and language is one of the most important ideological phenomena. When we speak we think; and when we think we speak with an internal language. The understanding needs speech as a kind of guiding thread in the labyrinth of ideas.

176. The connection of ideas by a sign seems necessary. The most universal and most convenient of these signs is language; but we must not forget that it is an arbitrary sign, as is proved by the variety of words used in different languages to express the same idea.

177. The phenomenon of the relation of ideas to language originates in the necessity of perpetuating ideas by determinate signs; and the importance of speech results from its being the most general, most convenient, and most flexible sign. And hence it is that when these circumstances can be united in another sign, the same object is attained. Physically speaking, written language is very different from language spoken; nevertheless, in very many cases it answers equally well.

178. The internal language is, sometimes, rather a reflection in which the idea is enlarged and developed, than an expression of it. True, we do not ordinarily think without speaking inwardly; but as we have already observed, speech is an arbitrary sign, and consequently we cannot establish a perfectly exact parallel between ideas and the internal language.

179. We think with instantaneousness, which defies the succession of words, however rapid we may suppose them to be. It is true that the internal language is far more rapid than the external; but it always involves succession, and requires a greater or less time, according to the words to be spoken.

This observation is important, lest we too greatly exaggerate the relation of ideas to speech. Language is certainly a wonderful channel for the communication of ideas, and a powerful auxiliary of our understanding; but we can, without ignoring these qualities, take care to avoid that exaggeration which seems to pronounce all thought impossible, if some word thought does not correspond to it.

180. We experience often enough the instantaneous occurrence of a multitude of ideas, which we afterwards develop in our discourse. We see this in those quick and lively replies excited by a word, or a gesture, which contradicts our opinions or wounds our feelings. In replying, it is impossible for us to speak inwardly, since the instantaneousness with which we reply forbids it. How often, in listening to an argument, do we instantly detect a fault, which we could not explain with words without a long discourse? How often, in proposing a difficulty to ourselves, do we catch its solution in an instant, although we could not possibly explain it without many words? How often do we at the very first glance discover the flaw in a proof, the force of an argument, or the ease with which it can be retorted upon the proposer of it, and all this without occupying a moiety of the intervals necessary to either external or internal locution? Thus it happens that the sudden thought is not unfrequently expressed by a single gesture, a glance of the eye, a nod of the head, a yes, or a no, an exclamation, or any other similar sign; all far more rapid than it is possible for the words expressive of our thought to be.

181. Let us illustrate this observation by a few examples. Some one says: "All men are naturally equal." The sense of this proposition cannot be known until the word equal is pronounced. How, then, is it that an enlightened and judicious man, will, by an instinctive impulse, answer no, will catch the word at the moment, and refute the empty boast of the declaimer with a flow of reasons? Until after the word, naturally the understanding remained in suspense; there was nothing to show the meaning of the proposition, since instead of equal, might have been said weak, mortal, inconstant, or any other such word; but so soon as the word equal is pronounced, the understanding says no, without having had the time to use an internal or external locution. The exact parallel which some suppose to exist between ideas and speech is, therefore, impossible; and they who defend it are guilty of an exaggeration incompatible with experience.

Another asserts, "justice to have no bounds but the limit of power." All who have any idea of morality, at once answer no: do they, forsooth, need an inward locution? True, in order to explain what is expressed by this no, and upon what it is based, many words are required, and that to reflect upon the proposition one must speak in inwardly; but this is all independent of that intellectual act, signified by the no, and which would have been still more briefly expressed had it been possible.

Another yet may say: "If this fact be attested by the senses, it will be true; and if it be true, it will be attested by the senses." The hearer assents to the former part, but rests in suspense as to the latter part until the word attest is pronounced. Then an instantaneous no leaps from his lips, or is expressed by a negative gesture. Does any interior locution precede? None, for none is possible. The following would be the words expressive of this act: "It is not true that every fact must be attested by the senses; since many facts are true, which do not belong to the sphere of sensibility." Let us examine whether or not these words are compatible with the instantaneousness of the no.

182. It will, perhaps, be objected, that the negation is one thing, and the reason of the negation another: that the simple no suffices for the former, and that it is only for the latter that more words are needed. But this is an equivocation. When the no was said, it was said for a reason, and this reason was the sight of the inconsequence then expressed by the words. Otherwise it would be necessary to admit the negative to be a blind judgment, and given without a reason. This being so, this reason founded upon the judgment, although expressed in the most laconical mode possible, would require some words, to form which, either interiorly or exteriorly, there has been no time. There is a question of calculation. He who hears the proposition cannot know the meaning of it, until the word attest is pronounced, and the sentence brought to a full stop. Before reaching the word attest, the sense of the proposition was unknown; it was not possible to form any judgment, since instead of saying, "If it be true the senses will attest it," he might have said, "If it be true the senses will not belie it."

We have spoken of the full stop, in order to show the instantaneousness of the perception and of the judgment, which proves that the understanding does not determine until the last moment. But let us suppose the same word attest to have been used indeed, but instead of a full stop, to have been followed by these other words, "if this fact falls under their jurisdiction." The words are the same, and yet they do not provoke a negative judgment; and why? Simply because the speaker continued. If he had ceased speaking, or had used an inflection of voice indicative of a period, the no would have risen like a flash. A comma or a period in writing, produce the same effect as a pause or an inflection of the voice in speaking. When we see these signs, we judge instantaneously, with a velocity incomparably greater than any internal or external locution.

It would be easy to multiply examples showing the superiority of thought to speech, so far as rapidity is concerned; but those already adduced seem to us sufficient to prove that there is some exaggeration in saying that "man before speaking his thought, thinks his words," if it be understood that all thought is impossible without a word thought.

CHAPTER XXIX.

ORIGIN AND CHARACTER OF THE RELATION BETWEEN LANGUAGE AND IDEAS

183. Many ideas seem to be like sensations and sentiments; simple facts, incapable of decomposition, for which reason we cannot explain them with words. Words illustrate ideas; but do they not sometimes also confuse them? When we speak of an idea, we reflect upon it, and I have already remarked11 that the reflective force of our perceptive ideas is much inferior to their direct force.

184. We have sometimes thought that we do, perhaps, know things which we imagine we do not know, and that we are ignorant of things we think we know. It is certain that disputes have been had in all schools of philosophy upon many ideas, without attaining any satisfactory result; and yet these ideas ought to be sufficiently clear to our mind, since we all use them every day without any equivocation. Philosophers have not, as yet, been able to agree upon the ideas of space and time, but the most ignorant men, nevertheless, make use of these words, and whenever the necessity occurs, apply them with exactness. This seems to prove that the difficulty is not in the idea but in its explanation.

185. It has been remarked that there is great truth and exactness in ordinary language, so much so, that the careful observer is astonished at the recondite wisdom hidden in a language; to see how great, how various, and how delicate are the gradations into which the sense of words is distributed. This is not the fruit of reflection; it is the work of reason operating directly, and consequently making use of ideas without reflecting upon them.

186. In ideological investigations some idea of the idea is sought, and it is not noted that if this be necessary to science, another idea of the other idea may be exacted, and that thus an infinite process may be given. It ought to be borne in mind that in treating of simple facts, as well external as internal, no other explanation of them can be demanded than an exposition.

187. Idea-images are a font of error, and probably all ideas explicable by words are not less so. An idea-image induces the belief that there are in our mind no ideas but sensible representations, and the supposition that every idea can be expressed by words, makes us imagine that to be composite which is simple, and attribute to the substance what belongs to the form.

188. A composite idea seems to be a union, or rather a connected series of ideas, which are either excited simultaneously, or follow each other with great rapidity. Our understanding requires words to bind this collection, to retain the thread which connects them; and hence it is, that when the idea is simple, language is not indispensable. It is said that speech is necessary in order to think, it might sometimes be said with more propriety, that it is necessary in order to recollect.

189. When the object occupying our attention is offered to the sensible intuition, we have no need of speech. We can, when we reflect upon a right line, an angle, a triangle, observe that their imaginary representation is all that we require, and that we do not need to bind these objects together by words. The same thing happens in thinking of unity, or on the numbers two, three, and four, which we easily represent to ourselves sensibly. The necessity for speech begins when the imagination loses the distinct representation of objects, and needs to combine various ideas. Did we not assign to a word the idea of a many-sided polygon, we should be in the greatest confusion, and it would be impossible for us to reason upon it.

190. Since, on the one hand, our perceptive faculties do not create their objects, but are limited to the combining of them; and, on the other hand, our perception is not capable of embracing many at one time, it results that the exercise of our faculties is necessarily successive; the unity of consciousness serving as the bond of union to our perceptions. But consciousness has no other means of knowing what passes within it, than to fix its operations by determinate signs, whence flows the necessity of arbitrary signs, which must be sensible, by reason of the relation uniting our intelligence with the sensitive faculties: and it is to be observed, that for this reason, every sign to which we assign an idea, may be the object of one of the senses. The great number and variety of ideas and their combinations, require an exceedingly variable and flexible sign, and this variety and flexibility require certain characters to simplify it, and thus render its retention in the memory more easy, whence the advantages of language: in the midst of its astonishing variety it lays these characters in radical syllables. The conjugation of a single verb alone offers us a considerable number of very different ideas, the retention of which would be excessively difficult, were they not joined by some tie such as the radical syllable: as in the verb to speak, the syllable speak. We see this by the greater labor the irregular verbs cost us than do the regular verbs when learning a language: and it may be remarked in children also, who blunder on the irregularities. We might compare language to the catalogue of a library, which is the more perfect, the more it unites simplicity with variety, so as to designate exactly the classes of the books and the shelves whereon they are to be found.