CHAPTER XVII.

THOUGHT AND EXISTENCE.--DESCARTES' PRINCIPLE.

163. Am I certain that I exist? Yes. Can I prove it? No. Proof supposes

reasoning; there is no solid reasoning without a firm principle on

which to rest it; and there is no firm principle unless we suppose the

existence of the reasoning being.

In effect, if he who reasons is not certain of his own existence,

he cannot be certain of his own reasoning, since there will be no

reasoning if there be no one to reason. Therefore there are, unless

we suppose this, no principles on which to rest; there is nothing but

illusion, or rather there is neither any illusion, for there can be

none where there is no one illuded.

Our existence cannot be demonstrated: we have so clear and strong

a consciousness of it that it leaves us no uncertainty; but it is

impossible to prove it by reasoning.

164. It is a prejudice and a fatal error to believe ourselves able to

prove everything by the use of reason; the principles on which it is

founded are prior to its use; the existence of reason, and that of the

being that reasons, are prior to both.

Not only are not all things demonstrated, but it may even be

demonstrated that some things are indemonstrable. Demonstration

is a ratiocination in which we infer from evident propositions, a

proposition evidently connected with them. If the premises are of

themselves evident, they do not admit of demonstration; if we suppose

them in their turn demonstrable, we shall have the same difficulty with

respect to those on which the new demonstration is founded; therefore

we must either stop at an indemonstrable point, or proceed to infinity,

which would be never to finish the demonstration.

165. And it is to be remarked that indemonstrability does not belong

solely to certain premises; it is found, in some measure, in every

argument by its very nature, abstracting the propositions which compose

it. We know that the premises A and B are certain; from them we infer

the proposition C. By what right? Because we see that C is connected

with A and B. But how do we know this? If by immediate evidence,

by intuition, here is something else that cannot be demonstrated,

the connection of the conclusion with the premises. If by argument,

ratiocination, establishing ourselves on the art of reasoning, there

are two considerations, both tending to demonstrate indemonstrability.

I. If the principles of the art are indemonstrable, we have at once

something indemonstrable; if they are demonstrable, we must make use

of others which serve as their basis, and at last either come to one

which does not admit of demonstration, or else proceed to infinity.

II. How do we know the principles of reasoning to be applicable to

this case? By another act of reasoning? Then we shall encounter the

same difficulty as in the other case. Is it because we see that it

is so? because it is immediately evident? Then here again we have an

indemonstrable point. These reflections will clearly show that to

demand proof of everything is to demand what is impossible.

166. A being which does not think has no consciousness of itself: the

stone exists, but does not know that it exists, neither would man

himself in a similar case, were all his intellectual and sensible

faculties in complete inaction. We easily conceive the difference of

these two states by calling to mind what occurs, when from waking we

pass into a profound sleep, and again when we awake from it. The first

starting-point of our cognitions is this intimate presence of our

internal acts, abstraction made of the questions which may be raised

upon their nature. If every thing existed as at present, and there also

existed, besides the world which we see, infinite other worlds, not

even then would any thing exist for us, had we not those internal acts

of which we are speaking. We should be like an insensible body placed

in the immensity of space, which would suffer no mutation were every

thing around it to disappear, and would perceive no change even if it

were itself to sink into the abyss of nothing. On the other hand, if

we suppose every thing to be annihilated except this being within us

which feels, thinks, and wills, there still remains a point whereon

to base the edifice of human cognitions: this being, though alone in

immensity, would render itself an account of its own acts to the

extent of its ability, and might go into numberless combinations having

for their object the possible though not the real.

167. The famous principle of Descartes, _I think, therefore I am_,

has been often attacked, and justly and conclusively so, if this

philosopher really understood his principle in the sense which the

schools are accustomed to give it. If Descartes presented it as a

true argument, as an enthymema with an antecedent and a consequent,

the argument was clearly defective in its foundation. For when he

said, "I am going to prove my existence with this enthymema: I think,

therefore I am:" this objection might have been made; your enthymema is

equivalent to a syllogism in this form: whatever thinks, exists; but

I think; therefore, I exist. This syllogism, in the supposition of a

universal doubt, excluding even the supposition of existence itself, is

inadmissable in its propositions and in their connection. In the first

place, how do you know that whatever thinks exists? Because nothing can

think without existing. How do you know that? Because what does not

exist, does not act. But how in its turn do you know this? Supposing

every thing to be doubted, nothing to be known, these principles are

not known; otherwise we fall short of the supposition of universal

doubt, and consequently go out of the question. If any one of these

principles must be admitted without proof, it is just as well to admit

your own existence and save yourself the trouble of proving it with an

enthymema.

In the second place, how do you know that you think? Your argument may

be retorted, as dialecticians say, in the following manner: nothing can

think without existing; but your existence is doubtful, for you are

trying to prove it; therefore you are not sure that you think.

168. Manifestly, then, Descartes' principle, taken as a true argument,

cannot be defended; and it is so easy to see its defect, that it seems

impossible for so clear and penetrating an intellect to have overlooked

it. It is therefore probable that Descartes understood his principle in

a very different sense; and we will now briefly show what meaning, in

our judgment, the illustrious philosopher must have given to it.

Supposing himself for a moment in universal doubt, without accepting

for certain anything that is known, he concentrated himself on himself,

and in the depth of his soul sought a point whereon to base the edifice

of human cognitions. Although we abstract all around us, we clearly

cannot abstract ourselves, our mind, which is present to its own eyes,

only the more lucidly, the greater the abstraction in which we place

ourselves with respect to eternal objects. Now in this concentration,

this collection of himself within himself, this withdrawal from every

thing for fear of error, and asking himself if there be any thing

certain, if there be any foundation and starting-point in the career

of knowledge; first of all is presented to him the consciousness of

thought, the very presence of the acts of his mind. If we mistake

not, this was Descartes' thought: I wish to doubt of every thing; I

refrain from affirming as from denying any thing; I isolate myself from

whatever surrounds me, because I know not if it be any thing more than

an illusion. But in this very isolation, I meet with the intimate sense

of my internal acts, with the presence of my mind; I think, therefore

I am; this I feel in a manner that leaves no room for doubt or

uncertainty; therefore, I am; that is to say, this sense of my thought

makes me know my existence.

169. This explains why Descartes did not present his principle as a

mere enthymema, as an ordinary argument, but as determining a fact

presented to him and first in the order of facts: even if he inferred

existence from thought, it was not by deduction, properly so called,

but as one fact contained in another, or rather identified with it.

We say _identified_, because it really is so in Descartes' opinion;

and this confirms what we have already advanced, that this philosopher

did not offer an argument, but laid down a fact. According to him,

the essence of the soul consists in thought; and as other schools of

philosophy distinguish between substance and its acts, considering

the mind in the first class, and thought in the second, so Descartes

held that there was no distinction between mind and thought, that

they were the same thing, that thought constituted the essence of the

soul. "Although one attribute," he says, "suffices to make us know the

substance, there is, nevertheless, in every substance one attribute,

which constitutes its nature and its essence, and on which all the

others depend. Extension in length, breadth, and depth, constitutes the

essence of corporeal substance; and thought constitutes the nature of

the substance which thinks."[9] From this it follows that Descartes, in

laying down the principle, _I think, therefore I exist_, only declared

a fact attested by consciousness; and so simple did he consider it, and

so unique, that in evolving his system, he identified thought with the

soul, and its essence with its existence. He was conscious of thought,

and said: "this thought is my soul; I am." It is not now our purpose

to weigh the value of this doctrine, but only to explain in what it

consists.(17)

[9] Descartes. _Principes de la Philosophie_, 1^{ière} partie.

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