By what right? An incontestible right, for it is the law of necessity. With what reason? With none, for we are now at the foundation of reason; this is the ne plus ultra of the human understanding; philosophy can go no farther. Let us not, however, be thought to abandon the field to skeptics, or to entrench ourselves in necessity, contented with pointing out a fact of our nature. The question is susceptible of different solutions, which may not, indeed, go beyond the ne plus ultra of our mind, but which yet leaves the cause of skepticism in great straits.
245. To ask why the criterion of evidence is legitimate, is to ask why this proposition is true: "whatever is evident is true;" it is to raise the question of the objectiveness of ideas. The fundamental difference between dogmatists and skeptics, is not that the latter deny the facts of consciousness—the most refined skepticism has not come to this, and both agree in recognizing the purely subjective appearance of phenomena; but it is that dogmatists found science on consciousness, and skeptics maintain that this is an illegitimate transition, and that we must despair of science, and confine ourselves to mere consciousness.
According to this doctrine, ideas are empty forms of the understanding, mean nothing, and can lead to nothing; although they entertain the understanding, and offer to it an immense field for combinations, the world they present to it is purely illusory, and can serve for nothing in the real order. In contemplating these entirely empty forms, the intellect is the sport of fantastic visions, from the union of which results the spectacle which seems now to belong to reality, and now to possibility; either it is a mere nonentity, or something, and if so, it can never make us sure of the reality it possesses.
246. It is difficult to fight skepticism when it takes this ground: situated beyond the domains of reason, the decisions of reason cannot reach it. It will appeal from them all, for it begins by denying the competency of the judge. But as these skeptics admit consciousness, it is right that they should defend it against whoever attempts to deprive them of it. We believe that if the objectiveness of ideas be denied, not only all science, but also all consciousness is annihilated; and here skeptics are guilty of an inconsequence; for, while they deny the objectiveness of some ideas, they admit that of others. No consciousness, properly so called, can exist, if this objectiveness be absolutely destroyed. We beg the reader to follow us in a brief, but severe analysis of the facts of consciousness, in their relations with the objectiveness of ideas.(24)
CHAPTER XXV.
THE OBJECTIVE VALUE OF IDEAS.
247. The transition from subject to object, from subjective appearance to objective reality, is a problem which vexes fundamental philosophy. Consciousness will not permit us to doubt that certain things appear to us in such a manner; but are they in reality what they appear to us? How are we to know this? What shall assure us of this conformity of the idea with the object?
The question does not relate solely to sensations; it also extends to purely intellectual ideas, even to those inundated with that internal light which we call evidence. "What I evidently see in the idea of a thing, is as I see it," philosophers have said, and all mankind with them. No one doubts what is presented to him as evidently true. But how prove that evidence is a legitimate criterion of truth?
248. "God is truthful," says Descartes, "and could not have deceived us; He could not have taken pleasure in making us the victims of perpetual illusions." All this is true. But the skeptic will ask how we know that God is truthful, or even that he exists. If we found the veracity of God on the idea of an infinitely perfect being, as Descartes does, there is still the same difficulty with respect to the correspondence of the idea with the object. If we draw the demonstration of the veracity and existence of God from the ideas of necessary and contingent beings, of effect and cause, of order and intelligence, we again meet the same obstacle, and are still unable to pass from the idea to the object.
No matter how much we cavil, we shall never get out of this circle, we shall always return to the same point. The mind cannot think out of itself; what it knows, it knows by means of its ideas; if these deceive, it has nothing left to set it right. All rectification, all proof must employ these ideas, and these, in their turn, require new proof and rectification.
249. Many books of philosophy exaggerate the illusions of the senses, and the difficulty of assuring ourselves of the sensible reality, when they solve this question: "I perceive it to be so; but is it as I perceive?" These same books immediately afterwards speak of the order of ideas with security equal to their mistrust in the sensible order. This does not seem very logical, for phenomena relating to the senses, may be examined by the light of reason, and it may be seen how far they agree with it: but what touch-stone have we for the phenomena of reason itself? If there be difficulty in the sensible, there is likewise in the intellectual, and the more serious, since it affects the very basis of all cognitions, even those which relate to sensations.
If we doubt the existence of the external world which the senses present to us, we may appeal to the connection of the sensations with causes not in us; and so deduce by demonstration the relations of the appearances with the reality: but this requires the ideas of cause and effect; we must have some truth, some general principles, as for example, that nothing can produce itself, and others similar, without which we cannot take one step.
250. We do not believe any satisfactory reason can be given for the veracity of the criterion of evidence, although it is impossible not to yield to it. The connection, therefore, of evidence with reality, and consequently, the transition from the idea to the object, are primitive facts of our nature, a necessary law of our understanding, the foundation of all that it contains—a foundation which in its turn rests, and can rest only on God, the Creator of our soul.
251. We must observe the contradiction into which those philosophers fall who say: I cannot doubt what is subjective, what affects myself, what I feel within myself; but I have no right to go out of myself, and affirm that what I think is in reality as I think. Do you know that you feel, that you think, that you have within you such or such an appearance? Can you prove it? Evidently you cannot. You yield to a fact, to an internal necessity which forces you to believe that you think, that you feel, or that such a thing appears to you; but then there is equal necessity in the connection of the object with the idea, an equal necessity forces you to believe that what appears to you to be in such or such a condition is as it appears. Neither case admits of demonstration; in both there is an indeclinable necessity: where, then, is philosophy, when it is attempted to establish so great a difference between things which admit of none?
Fichte says: "It is impossible to explain in a precise manner how a philosopher can get beyond the me:"[21] and we may with equal reason say, that we cannot conceive how he has been able to raise a system upon the me. To what does he appeal? To a fact of consciousness, that is, to a necessity. And is not the assent to evidence, the certainty to which the reality apparently corresponds, also a necessity? On what does Fichte found his system of the me and the not-me? We have only to