TRUE STATE OF THE QUESTION.
5. That we have certainty, common sense assures us, but what is its
basis, and how it is acquired, are two difficult questions, which it is
for philosophy to answer.
Three very different questions are involved in that of certainty;
and if confounded, they contribute not a little to the creation of
difficulties, and the confusion of matters which, even when they have
their various aspects most accurately marked, are sufficiently hard and
complicated.
It will greatly conduce to the due determination of our ideas,
carefully to distinguish between the existence of certainty, its basis,
and the mode in which it is acquired. Its existence is an indisputable
fact; its basis the object of philosophical researches, and the mode of
acquiring it frequently a concealed phenomenon not open to observation.
6. That bodies exist is a fact that no man of sane mind can doubt. No
questions raised upon this point can ever shake our firm conviction
in the existence, without us, of what we call the corporeal world.
This conviction is a phenomenon of our existence. Explain it, perhaps
we cannot; but we certainly cannot deny it; we submit to it as to an
inevitable necessity.
What is the basis of certainty? Here we have not a simple fact, but
a question solved by every philosopher in his own way. Descartes and
Malebranche recur to the veracity of God; Locke and Condillac to the
peculiar character and evolution of certain sensations.
How does man acquire this certainty? He knows not: he had it before
reflecting on it; he is astounded to hear it made a matter of dispute,
and he might never have suspected it could be asked, why we are certain
that what affects our senses exists. It is of no use to ask him how
he made so precious an acquisition; he regards it as a fact scarcely
distinct from his own existence. He has no recollection of the order
of sensations in his infancy; he finds his mind now developed, but is
as ignorant of the laws of its development as he is of those which
presided over the generation and growth of his body.
7. Philosophy should begin by explaining, not by disputing the fact of
certainty. If we are certain of nothing, it is absolutely impossible
for us to advance a single step in any science, or to take any part
whatever in the affairs of life. A thorough-going skeptic would be
insane, and that too with insanity of the highest grade. To such a one,
all communication with other men, all succession of external actions,
all thoughts, and even acts of the will would be impossible. Let us,
then, admit the fact, and not be so extravagant as to say that madness
sits on the threshold of philosophy.
It is the part of philosophy to analyze, not to destroy its object;
for by destroying its object it destroys itself. Every argument must
have a resting-point, which must be a fact. Whether it be internal
or external, idea or object, the fact must exist: we must begin by
supposing something, and this something we call a fact. Whoever begins
by denying or doubting all facts, is like the anatomist, who, before
dissecting a corpse, burns it, and casts its ashes to the wind.
8. Philosophy then, it may be said, commences not with an examination,
but with an affirmation. Granted, and this is a truth whose admission
closes the door on much sophistry, and sheds a brilliant light over
the whole theory of certainty.
Philosophers are deceived when they imagine that they begin by
doubting. Nothing is more false; when they think, they affirm, if
nothing else, at least their own doubt: whenever they reason, they
assert the connection of ideas, that is, the whole logical world.
Fichte, who certainly was not easily satisfied with anything, begins
to treat of the basis of human knowledge by making an affirmation, and
this he confesses with an ingenuousness that does him honor. Speaking
of reflection, the foundation of his philosophy, he says: "The rules
to which this reflection is subject, are not proved to be valid, but
are tacitly presupposed to be known and admitted. They are, in their
remotest origin, derived from a principle, the legitimacy of which
can only be established on condition that _they are valid_. This is a
circle, but an _inevitable circle_. But supposing it to be inevitable,
and that we frankly confess it so to be, it is, in order to establish
the highest principle, allowable _to trust all the laws of general
logic_. We must start on the road of reflection with a proposition
conceded by all the world without any contradiction."[1]
[1] Fichte, _Grundlage der gesammten Wissenschaftslehre_. Theil. i., §
1. Ed. Berlin, 1845, p. 92.
9. Certainty is to us a happy necessity; nature imposes it, and
philosophers do not cast off nature. Pyrrho once came very near being
hit by a stone, but he very naturally took good care to get out of
its way, without stopping to examine whether it was a real stone, or
only the appearance of one. The bystanders laughed at him for this,
and, at the same time, showed how inconsistent this act was with his
doctrine; but he gave this answer, which, under the circumstances, was
exceedingly profound: "It is hard entirely to throw off human nature."
10. In sound philosophy, then, the question turns not upon the
existence of certainty, but upon its motives, and the means of
acquiring it. It is an inheritance of which we cannot divest ourselves,
although we repudiate those very titles which guaranty its possession
to us. Who is not certain that he thinks, feels, wills; that he has a
body, and that there are around him others similar to his, of which
the corporeal universe consists? Prior to all systems, humanity was in
possession of this certainty, so, also, is every individual, although
he may never during his whole life have once asked himself what the
world is, what bodies are, or in what sensation, thought, and will
consist. Not even if we examine the foundations of certainty and
acknowledge the serious difficulties concerning them, which arise from
ratiocination, is it possible to doubt everything. There never was, in
all the rigor of the word, a true skeptic.
11. It is the same with certainty as with other objects of human
knowledge. The fact is presented to us in all its magnitude, and with
all clearness; but we do not penetrate to its innermost nature. Our
understanding is as well provided with means to acquire knowledge
of phenomena in the spiritual as in the material order, and it is
sufficiently perspicacious to detect, delineate, and classify the laws
to which they are subject; but when it would ascend to the cognition
of the very essence of things, or would investigate the principles of
the science which makes its boast, it feels its strength fail, and the
ground whereon it stands, tremble and sink beneath its feet.
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]
[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)