CHAPTER XX.
ARE THERE ABSOLUTE MAGNITUDES?
144. The preceding doctrine will seem much more probable if we reflect that all purely intellectual perceptions of extension may be reduced to the knowledge of order and relation. There is nothing absolute in the eyes of science, not even of mathematical science. The absolute, in relation to extension, is an ignorant fancy which the observation of the phenomena is sufficient to dissipate.
In the order of appearances there are no absolute magnitudes; all are relations. We can not even form an idea of a magnitude, unless with reference to another which serves for a measure. The absolute is found only in number, and never in extension; a magnitude is absolute, not in itself, but only by being numbered. A surface two feet square, presents two distinct ideas; the number of its parts, and the kind of parts. The number is a fixed idea, but the kind is purely relative. I will try to make this clearer.
145. When I speak of a surface four feet square, the number four is a simple, fixed, and unchangeable idea; but I can explain a square foot only by relations. If I am asked what is a square foot, I can answer only by comparison with a square rod or a square inch; but if I am again asked what is a square rod or a square inch, I am again forced to recur to other measures which are greater or smaller; I can nowhere find a fixed magnitude.
146. If there were some fixed measure it might be some dimension of the body, my hand, or foot, or arm. But who does not see that the dimensions of my body are not a universal measure, and that the hands, or feet, or arms, of all men are not equal? And even in the same individual they are subject to a thousand changes more or less perceptible. Shall we take for our fixed measure the radius of the earth, or of a heavenly body? But one has no claim to preference before the other. Every one knows that astronomers take sometimes the radius of the earth, and sometimes the radius of its orbit as the unity of measure. If we suppose these radii to be greater or smaller, can we not equally in either case take them as the measure? They are preferred because they do not change.
But even astronomers regard these magnitudes as purely relative, and at one time consider them infinitely large, at another infinitely small, according to the point of view from which they look at them. The radius of the earth's orbit is considered infinite in comparison with a small inequality on the earth's surface, and infinitely small when compared with the distance of the fixed stars.
We can form no idea of these measures except by comparison with those in constant use. What idea should we have of the magnitude of the radius of the earth if we did not know how many million measures it is equal to? What idea should we have in turn of these measures if we had nothing constant to which we could refer them?
147. There is something absolute in magnitudes, it may be objected; for a foot is a certain length which we both see and touch, and cannot be greater or smaller; the surface of a square yard is in like manner something definite which we see and which we touch; and the same may be applied to solids. There is no necessity of going farther to find that which is so clearly presented to us in sensible intuition. This objection supposes that there is something fixed and constant in intuition; this is false. I appeal to experience.
It is probable that men see the same magnitudes very differently according to the disposition of their eyes. No one is ignorant that this happens when the objects are at a distance; for, then, one sees clearly what another cannot even distinguish; to one it is a surface, while to another it is not even so much as a point. We all know what a great variety there is in the size of objects when looked at through differently graduated glasses. From all this we conclude that there is nothing fixed in phenomenal magnitude; but that every thing is subject to continual changes.
When we look through a microscope objects which were before invisible, take large dimensions; and as the microscope may be infinitely perfected, it is not absurd to suppose that there are animals to whom what is invisible to us appears larger than the whole earth. The construction of the eye may also be considered in an inverse sense, and as infinite perfection is also possible in this case, it is possible that magnitudes which to us are immense may be invisible to other beings. To this eye of colossal vision the terrestrial globe would perhaps be an imperceptible atom. This is no more than what happens by the interposition of distance; immense masses in the firmament seem to us to be only small specks of light.
148. It must now be very evident that there is nothing absolute in magnitudes of sight; but that all is relative, and that objects appear to us greater or less, according to habit, the construction of our organs, and other circumstances. The variety of appearances is in accordance with philosophy; since no necessary relation can be discovered between the size of the organ and the object. What connection is there between a narrow surface like the retina of our eye and the immense surfaces which are painted on it?
149. From sight we may pass to touch, but we find no reason of the fixity of phenomenal magnitude. The sense of touch gives us the ideas of magnitudes by relation to the time it takes to pass over them, and to the velocity of our motion. The ideas of time and velocity are also relative; they refer to the space passed over. When we measure velocity we say that it is the space divided by the time; in measuring time we say that it is the space divided by the velocity; and we measure space by multiplying the velocity by the time. All these ideas are correlative, and are measured by each other, and by their mutual relations. This shows that these ideas have nothing absolute; their whole character is that of a relation which is incomplete, or rather does not exist, if one of the terms is wanting.
150. We shall find it equally impossible to determine these measures by the impressions which the motion causes in us. If for example we propose to measure the degree of velocity, by the agitation which we feel in our body, we shall find that the measure varies with the agitation, but this agitation depends on the degree of force exerted, and still more on the strength of the subject. Thus a little child is obliged to run till he is almost out of breath, to keep up with his father who is walking fast.
The impossibility of any fixed measure by means of impressions will be still more apparent if we compare the motion of a horse with the motion of a microscopic animal. The distance which a horse would pass over almost without any sensible motion, would require the microscopic animal to display its whole activity, and run perhaps a whole day. The horse would scarce believe he had changed his place, whereas the poor animalcule would at night be overcome by fatigue like one who has travelled a long journey. Compare now the motion of the horse with the motion of those fabulous giants who piled up mountains to scale the heavens; a single step of one of those giants would be a long distance for the horse to travel.
151. Art seems to be in accordance with science on this point. In art, size is nothing, the only thing which is regarded is the proportion or relation. A skilful miniature represents a person as clearly as a painting the size of life. The same principle is applied to all the objects embraced by art, the artistic thought never refers directly to the size; proportion, the relative is all that is attended to; the absolute counts for nothing. We see the system of relations transferred to the order of appearances, inasmuch as they affect the faculties susceptible of pleasure; reason is thus admirably harmonized with sentiment, in the same manner as we have found intellect harmonized with the senses.
CHAPTER XXI.
PURE INTELLIGIBILITY OF THE EXTENDED WORLD
152. Objects in themselves do not change their nature, by the variety of appearances which they produce in us. A polygon turning with rapidity has the appearance of a circle; the stars appear like small points; and considering the various classes of objects, we may observe that there is a great variety of appearances depending on circumstances. The nature of a being does not consist in what it appears, but in what it is. Suppose there were no sensitive being in the world, the present order of sensibility would disappear; for without sensitive beings there would be no representations. What would the world be in that case? This is a great problem of metaphysics.
153. A pure spirit, – the existence of which we must always suppose; for, though all finite beings were annihilated, there would still remain the infinite being which is God, – a pure spirit would know the extended world just as it is in itself, and would not have the sensible representations either external or internal, which we have. This is certain, unless we mean to attribute imagination and sensibility to pure spirits, and even to God himself.
On this supposition I ask, what would a pure spirit know of the external world? or, to speak more properly, since the existence of such a spirit is certain and its intelligence infinite, what does this spirit know of the external world?
154. That which this spirit knows of the world is the world, because he cannot be deceived. But this spirit does not know the world under any sensible form. Therefore the world may be known without any of the forms of sensibility, and consequently may be the object of a pure intelligence.
There is no difficulty on this point in what regards sensations. It is only necessary that we should say that the pure spirit knows perfectly the principle of causality which resides in the object, and produces the impressions which we experience. There is no need of attributing to the intelligent spirit any sensation of the thing understood.
This question is more difficult when we come to explain what relates to extension. For, if we say that the spirit only knows the principle of causality of the subjective representation of the extended, it follows that there is no true extension in the objects, because the spirit sees all that there is, and if the spirit does not see it, it is because it is not. We fall into Berkeley's idealism; an external world without extension is not the world of common sense, but the world of the idealists. If, on the other hand, we say that this pure spirit does know extension, we seem to attribute to the spirit sensible representation; because the extension represented seems to involve sensible representation. What is an extension with lines, surfaces, and figures? And these objects, as we understand them, are sensible; if, however, they be taken in another sense, the extension of the world will be of another nature, it will be something of which we have no idea; and here again we fall into idealism.
155. To solve this difficulty, which is really a serious one, it is necessary to recollect the distinction on which I insisted so earnestly between extension as sensation and extension as idea. The former can become subjective only in a sensible being; the second may be, and is, subjective in a purely intellectual being. Extension as sensation is something subjective, it is an appearance; its object exists in reality, but without including in its essence any thing more than is necessary in order to produce the sensation. Extension as idea is also subjective; but it has a real object which corresponds to it, and satisfies all the conditions of the idea.
156. Does not this theory seem to establish two geometries? We must distinguish. The scientific and the pure ideal geometry will remain the same, save the difference of the intelligences which possess it. But notwithstanding this difference, what is true in one is true in the other. Empirical geometry as the representative part of geometry will be different: we have the idea only of our own.
157. In fact we observe two parts in geometry even in ourselves; the one purely scientific, the other of sensible representation. The former includes the connection of ideas; the latter the images and particular cases by means of which we make the ideas sensible: the first is the ground; the second is the form. But although the two are different, we cannot separate them entirely: we cannot have the geometrical idea without the sensible representation, we understand it only per conversionem ad phantasmata, as say the scholastics. Thus the two orders of geometry, the sensible and the intellectual, though different, are always joined in us; whether because the pure geometrical idea arises from the sensible, or is excited by it, or because this is perhaps a necessary primitive condition imposed on our mind by its union with the body.
158. This shows how the pure geometry may be separated from the sensible, and how it may exist in pure intellectual beings, without any of the forms which represent the geometrical idea in sensible beings.
159. But what becomes of extension in itself and stripped of all sensible form? When we speak of extension stripped of all sensible form, we do not mean to deprive it of its capacity to be perceived by the senses, we merely abstract the relations of this capacity to sensible beings. Extension is then reduced, not to an imaginary space, nor to an eternal and infinite being, but to an order of beings, to the sum of their constant relations subject to necessary laws. What then are these relations? I know not. But I know that they exist and that these necessary laws exist. That they exist in reality I know by experience, which gives testimony of their existence; that they are possible, I know on the authority of my ideas, the connection of which forces my assent to their intrinsical evidence.
160. That this evidence touches but one aspect of the object, is true; that there are many things in the object which we do not know, is likewise true; but this only proves that our science is incomplete, not that it is illusory or false.
161. It is difficult for us to conceive the pure intelligibility of the sensible world, both because our ideas are always accompanied by representations of the imagination, and because we try to explain it by simple addition and subtraction of parts, as though all the problems of the universe could be reduced to expressions of lines, surfaces, and solids. Geometry plays an important part in all that regards the appreciation of the phenomena of nature; but when we want to penetrate to the essence of things, we must lay aside geometry and take up metaphysics.
There is no more seductive philosophy than that which reduces the world to motions and figures, but at the same time there is none more superficial. A slight reflection on the reality of things shows the insufficiency of such a system. For, though the imagination be satisfied with it, the understanding is not, and it takes a noble revenge on its unfaithful companion, when, forcing the imagination to fix itself upon objects, the understanding sinks it in an ocean of darkness and contradiction. Those who laugh at the forms, the acts, the forces, and other such expressions used with more or less exactness in different schools, ought to reflect that even in the physical world there is something more than is perceived by the senses; and that even sensible phenomena cannot be explained by mere sensible representations. Physical science is not complete until it calls to its aid metaphysics.
The best proof of this will be found in the next chapter, where we shall see the imagination entangled in its own representations.
CHAPTER XXII.
INFINITE DIVISIBILITY
162. The divisibility of matter is a question that torments philosophers. Matter is divisible because it is extended, and there is no extension without parts. These parts are extended or are not: if they are, they are again divisible; if they are not, they are simple, and in the division of matter we must come to unextended points.
This last consequence can be avoided only by recourse to the infinite divisibility of matter, and even this is a means of escaping the difficulty rather than a true solution. I intimated elsewhere52 that infinite divisibility seems to suppose the very thing which it denies. Division does not make the parts, it supposes them; that which is simple cannot be divided; therefore, the parts which may be divided pre-exist in the infinitely divisible composition.
Let us imagine God to exert his infinite power in dividing, will he exhaust divisibility? If you say no, you seem to place limits to his omnipotence; if you say yes, we shall have arrived at simple points, as otherwise the divisibility would not be exhausted.
Even supposing that God does not make this division, his infinite intelligence certainly sees all the parts into which the composite is divisible; these parts must be simple, or else the infinite intelligence would not see the limit of divisibility. If you answer that this limit does not exist, and therefore cannot be seen, I reply that we must then admit an infinite number of parts in each portion of matter; there would, in this case, be no limit of divisibility, because the number of parts would be inexhaustible; but this infinite number would be seen by the infinite intelligence, as it is, and all these parts would be known as they are. The difficulty still remains; these parts are simple or composite; if simple, the opinion which we are opposing does, at least, admit unextended points; if composite, the same argument may be repeated; they are again divisible. We shall then have a new infinite number in each one of the parts of the first infinite number; but as this series of infinities must be always known to the infinite intelligence, we must come to simple points, or else say that the infinite intelligence does not know all that there is in matter.
It does not mend the matter to say that the parts are not actual but only possible. In the first place, possible parts are existing parts, because, if the parts are not real, there must be real simplicity, and consequently, indivisibility. Secondly, if they are possible, they may be made to exist by the intervention of an infinite power; and then what are these parts? they are either extended or unextended, and the matter returns to where it was before.
163. Some say that a mathematical quantity, or a body mathematically considered, is infinitely divisible, but that natural bodies are not, because their natural form requires a determinate quantity. This is the explanation which was given in the schools; but it is very clear that there is no ground for affirming that these natural bodies require a certain quantity, beyond which division is impossible. This cannot be proved either a prior nor a posteriori: not a priori, because we do not know the essence of bodies, and cannot say that there is a point where the natural form requires the limit of divisibility; neither can it be proved a posteriori, because the means of observation at our disposal are so coarse, that it is impossible for us to reach the last limit of division and discover a part which cannot be divided. Besides, when we reach this quantity beyond which division cannot go, we have a true quantity, by the supposition; if it is quantity it is extended; if it is extended it has parts; if it has parts it is divisible. Therefore there is no reason for saying that there is any natural form which limits division.
164. The distinction between a natural and a mathematical body is not admissible in what relates to division. This is a result of the nature of extension, which is real in natural bodies, and ideal in mathematical. That the parts in natural bodies are not actual but possible, may be understood in two ways; it may mean that they are not actually separated; or, that they are not distinct. That they are not separated has no bearing on the question; for division may be conceived without separating the parts. But, if they are not distinct, the division is impossible; for it cannot even be conceived where the things are not distinct.
165. This distinction seems to have originated in the attempt to avoid the necessity of admitting infinite divisibility in natural bodies. But the difficulty still remaining with regard to mathematical bodies, the philosophical mystery still subsists. It consists in this, that no limit can be assigned to division so long as there is any thing extended; and, on the other hand, if, in order to assign this limit, we come to simple points, then it is impossible to reconstitute extension. The difficulty arises from the very nature of extended things, whether realized or only conceived; the real order escapes none of the difficulties of the ideal. If ideal extension cannot be constituted out of unextended points, neither can real extension; if ideal extension has no limit to its divisibility until we come to simple points, the same is also true of real extension; for in both it is a result of the essence of extension, and inseparable from it.