VALUE OF THE PRINCIPLE, I THINK: ITS--ANALYSIS.
178. We have already seen that Descartes' principle, considered as an
enthymema, cannot aspire to be fundamental. In every argument there are
premises and a consequence; and to be conclusive, the premises must be
true, and the consequence legitimate. To say that an argument may be a
fundamental principle, is a manifest contradiction.
But if we take Descartes' principle in the sense above explained,
that is, not as an argument but as the declaration of a fact, the
contradiction ceases, and it is a question, worthy to be examined,
whether it merits the title of fundamental principle or not, and in
what sense. We have already somewhat illustrated this matter, but not
yet sufficiently cleared it up; we have made some preliminary remarks
in order to show the state of the question, but have not yet completely
solved it.
179. The proposition, _I think_, as we have remarked, expresses
something more than merely thought, strictly so called: it embraces
acts of the will, sentiments, sensations, acts, and expressions of
all kinds which are realized within us; it includes all phenomena
immediately present to our mind, and attested by consciousness.
Nothing that distinguishes between various acts and impressions can
be a fundamental principle: such a distinction supposes analysis, and
analysis requires reflection. We do not reflect without rules and
objects already known; consequently, to admit classifications in the
first principle, is to divest it of its character and to contradict
ourselves.
180. We must not confound what is expressed by the proposition _I
think_ with the proposition itself. The thing itself and the form
are here very different: the nature of the form may make us conceive
ambiguous ideas of the thing itself: the thing itself is a most
simple fact; the form is a logical combination, and includes very
heterogeneous elements. This demands explanation.
The fact of consciousness, in itself considered, abstracts all
relations; it is nothing but itself, leads to nothing but itself; it
is the presence of the act or impression, or rather it is the act,
the impression itself, which is present to the mind. There is no
combination of ideas, no analysis of conceptions; when it comes to
this latter, it leaves the territory of pure consciousness, and enters
the objective regions of intellectual activity. But as language is to
express the products of this activity, and as it is cast, so to say,
not in the mould of consciousness, but in that of the intellect, it is
impossible for us to speak without some logical or ideal combination.
Were we seeking an expression of pure consciousness, unmixed with
intellectual elements, we should seek it not in language, but in the
natural sign of grief, joy, or some other passion; in this alone is
it expressed spontaneously and uncombined with foreign elements, that
something passes in our mind, that we are conscious of something;
but the instant that we speak, we express something more than pure
consciousness: the external world indicates the internal, the product
of intellectual activity, its conception; and this involves a subject
and an object, and therefore pertains to an order far superior to that
of consciousness.
181. To demonstrate the truth of what we have just said, let us examine
the expression, _I think_. This is a true proposition, and it may,
without being in the least changed, be presented under a strictly
logical form, _I am thinking_. Here we have a subject, a predicate,
and a copula. The subject is _I_; that is to say, we at once find the
idea of a being, the subject of acts and impressions, the possessor of
an activity expressed in the predicate. This _I_ is then presented to
us as something far superior to the order of pure consciousness; it is
nothing less than the idea of substance. We will analyze more at length
what is contained under it.
We have, in the first place, the idea of unity: the _I_ has no
meaning, if it do not denote that something is one and identical,
notwithstanding the plurality and diversity realized in it. The
experimental unity of consciousness draws with it, as a rigid
consequence, the unity of the being possessing it. This being is the
subject; and in it are realized the variations without which it would
be impossible to say _I_. We hold then that in so simple an expression
the ideas of unity and its relation to plurality, of substance and its
relations to accidents, are contained; that is, the idea of the soul,
although expressive of a most simple unity, is, under the logical
aspect, composite, and contains many things pertaining to the ideal
order, and not to be found in pure consciousness. The idea of the soul,
strictly speaking, although in a certain sense common to all men, is in
itself highly philosophical, for it involves a combination of elements
belonging to the intellectual order.
182. The predicate _thinking_ is the expression of a general idea,
comprehending not only all thought, but also all phenomena which
immediately affect the mind. These phenomena, considered in what they
have in common, under the general idea of present to the mind, are
expressed in the word thinking.
The relation of the predicate with the subject, or the agreement
of _thinking_ with the soul, also expresses an analysis worthy of
attention. We at once detect a decomposition of the conception of the
soul into two ideas; that of the subject of various modifications, and
that of thinking. Otherwise the proposition has no meaning, or rather
its expression becomes impossible. The idea of subject involves the
ideas of unity and substance, and that of thinking involves the idea of
activity, or of passivity, so to speak, accompanied by consciousness.
183. To render the proposition possible, we must suppose the
decomposition of the ideas to commence at some point, that is, either
in the idea of the soul we find that of _thinking_, or in that of
_thinking_ we find that of the soul. Fixing ourselves in the soul,
and abstracting _thinking_, we meet with the idea of subject, or of
substance in general; and there, however much we cavil, we shall never
find the idea of _thinking_. The soul in itself is not manifested to
us; we know it by thought; in thought therefore we must fix the point
of departure, not in the soul; wherefore in the above proposition, what
is primitively known is rather the predicate than the subject; and of
the two conceptions, that of subject has rather the character of a
thing contained, than of a thing containing.
The soul by itself, so to speak, springs up with the presence of
thought. If the intellectual activity is concentrated in search of its
first basis, it finds it, not in the pure subject, but in its acts,
that is, in its thoughts. These last are then the first object of
reflective intellectual activity, its first element of combination,
its first _datum_ for the solution of the problem. Fixing its sight
on this element, it discovers a unity in the midst of plurality, a
being that remains the same through the ebb and flow of the phenomena
of consciousness; and this identity is incontestably asserted by
consciousness itself. The idea of the soul then is taken from that
of thought, and consequently the subject springs from the predicate,
rather than the predicate from the subject.
184. The thought from which we derive the idea of the soul is not
thought in general, but thought realized, existing in ourselves. But
this reality is sterile unless offered to the mind under a general
idea; for it is evident that the soul does not come from one single
act, since it is unity, the subject of plurality. To arrive at the idea
of the soul we require unity of consciousness, and this we know only as
we have experienced it, that is, so far as we perceive the relation of
the one to the multiple, of a subject to its modifications.
Such elaboration is necessary to the production of so simple an
expression as _I think_; and here we see how much reason there
is to distinguish between the thing itself and the form, and how
inconsiderately they act who confound things so different. Thus, from
want of due analysis, they take in philosophy immense strides from one
order to another, confound ideas and entangle matters.
185. To completely illustrate this matter, we will examine the
relations of existence to thought; a very easy examination, if we bear
in mind the observation just made.
It is certain that we conceive existence before thought: nothing can
think without existing: existence is an indispensable condition to
thought: to think and not to exist is a manifest contradiction. But
what is first offered to our mind is not existence, but thought,
and this not in the abstract, but determinate, experimental, or as
the expression now is, empyrical. The idea of existence is general,
includes all beings, and consciousness cannot commence with it. At
one time we obtain this idea by abstraction; at another, it is a form
pre-existing in our mind, not the first that occurs to us, or to speak
more exactly, not the last point to be attained when we follow back the
thread of our cognitions in order to discover their starting-point.
This consciousness, when made objective, and when the conception
which it offers is analyzed, presents to us the idea of existence as
contained in itself.
Hence we infer that the _therefore I exist_ is not, strictly speaking,
a consequence of the _I think_, but the intuition of the idea of
existence in that of thought. There are here two propositions _per
se notæ_, as the scholastics say: the one general, _the thinking is
existing_; the other particular, _I thinking am existing_. The first
belongs to the purely ideal order, and is intrinsically evident,
independently of all particular consciousness; the second participates
of the two orders, the real and the ideal; the real, in so far as it
includes the particular fact of consciousness; the ideal, in so far as
it includes a combination of the general idea of existence with the
particular fact; since thus only is the union of the predicate with the
subject conceivable.
186. It will now be very easy to solve all the questions discussed in
the schools.
First question. Does the principle _I think_ depend on another? We
answer with a distinction. If by this principle is meant the simple
fact of consciousness, it evidently does not. For our understanding
there is nothing prior to ourselves; whatever we know so far forth as
known by us, supposes our consciousness; if we suppress it, we destroy
every thing, and although we attempt to destroy every thing, it still
remains indestructible, since it depends on nothing, presupposes
nothing.
If by the principle _I think_ is meant a proposition, it can only have
proceeded from reasoning or analysis, and so cannot be the fundamental
principle of our cognitions.
187. Second question. When the other principles are wanting, is this
one also wanting? We must apply the same distinction here: as a simple
fact? No! as a proposition? Yes! Deny every thing, even the principle
of contradiction, and consciousness still subsists; but deny the
principle of contradiction, and every proposition is destroyed, every
combination becomes absurd: analysis, and the relation of the predicate
with the subject, are unmeaning words.
188. Third question. Admitting the principle _I think_, can he who
denies the others be reduced at least indirectly to truth? We again
distinguish: you speak of reducing him either by reasoning or by
observation; that is, either you wish to convince him by arguments,
or else to turn his attention to himself, as is done with a man
distracted, or one suffering mental derangement. The second is
possible, but not the first. Whoever denies all principles, that of
contradiction included, makes all argument impossible; in vain then
will you reason with him. Let us see.
You think, one may say to him, at least you so assert, when you admit
the principle _I think_. True. Then you must also admit the principle
of contradiction. Why so? Because otherwise you could think and not
think at the same time. Very well. But then you destroy your own
thought. How? Is it not true that you think? Certainly. According to
yourself it is possible that at the same time you do not think. I agree
with you. Therefore, you destroy your thought; for if you do not think,
the _I think_ is destroyed, and, as all this is simultaneous, you
destroy your own thought.
Not at all. What I object to in your system is that you suppose true
the very thing which I deny, and so fall into the sophism named by
logicians _petitio principii_. By the very fact of my denying the
principle of contradiction, I deny that not-being destroys being, and
that being destroys not-being; consequently, I do not admit that the
_I do not think_ destroys the _I think_. When you argue against me
in this way, you suppose the very point in question, and attack me
with principles which I do not admit. In your system, in which being
destroys not-being, and _vice versa_, it is certain that to think,
and not think, are incompatible; but on my principles, it is a very
simple thing; since, according to them, it is not impossible for the
same thing to be and not be at the same time, when I do not think, I
do not cease to think. This is indeed absurd, but not illogical; deny
the principle, and the deduction is necessary. And if it be said that
in such a case he cannot reason, as he just has reasoned, he may reply
that neither can his adversaries reason; or, if you choose, he sees no
difficulty in their both reasoning and not reasoning.
Observation is the only means of bringing back one who has thus strayed
away; such a one has departed from reason, and cannot be brought back
to it by means of reason. Observations directed to him must be more
of a call, a sort of alarm to arouse reason, not a combination to
re-construct it: he is as a man asleep, or one in a swoon, and we must
call him, and shake him, in order to arouse him; we must not dispute
with him as with an adversary.(19)