CHAPTER II.
GENERAL SURVEY OF THE MOST IMPORTANT VIEWS
HITHERTO HELD CONCERNING THE PRINCIPLE OF SUFFICIENT
REASON.
§ 6. First Statement of the Principle and Distinction between Two of its Meanings.
A more or less accurately defined, abstract expression for so fundamental a principle of all knowledge must have been found at a very early age; it would, therefore, be difficult, and besides of no great interest, to determine where it first appeared. Neither Plato nor Aristotle have formally stated it as a leading fundamental principle, although both often speak of it as a self-evident truth. Thus, with a naïveté which savours of the state of innocence as opposed to that of the knowledge of good and of evil, when compared with the critical researches of our own times, Plato says: ἀναγκαῖον, πάντα τὰ γιγνόμενα διά τινα αἰτίαν γίγνεσθαι· πῶς γὰρ ἂν χωρὶς τούτων γίγνοιτο;[16] (necesse est, quæcunque fiunt, per aliquam causam fieri: quomodo enim absque ea fierent?) and then again: πᾶν δὲ τὸ γιγνόμενον ὑπ' αἰτίου τινὸς ἐξ ἀνάγκης γίγνεσθαι· παντὶ γὰρ ἀδύνατον χωρὶς αἰτίου γένεσιν σχεῖν[17] (quidquid gignitur, ex aliqua causa necessario gignitur: sine causa enim oriri quidquam, impossibile est). At the end of his book "De fato," Plutarch cites the following among the chief propositions of the Stoics: μάλιστα μὲν καὶ πρῶτον εἶναι δόξειε, τὸ μηδὲν ἀναιτίως γίγνεσθαι, ἀλλὰ κατὰ προηγουμένας αἰτίας[18] (maxime id primum esse videbitur, nihil fieri sine causa, sed omnia causis antegressis).
In the "Analyt. post." i. 2, Aristotle states the principle of sufficient reason to a certain degree when he says: ἐπίστασθαι δὲ οἰόμεθα ἕκαστον ἁπλῶς, ὅταν τὴν τ' αἰτίαν οἰόμεθα γινώσκειν, δι' ἣν τὸ πρᾶγμα ἔστιν, ὅτι ἐκείνου αἰτία ἐστίν, καὶ μὴ ἐνδέχεσθαι τοῦτο ἄλλως εἶναι. (Scire autem putamus unamquamque rem simpliciter, quum putamus causam cognoscere, propter quum res est, ejusque rei causam esse, nec posse eam aliter se habere.)[19] In his "Metaphysics," moreover, he already divides causes, or rather principles, ἀρχαί, into different kinds,[20] of which he admits eight; but this division is neither profound nor precise enough. He is, nevertheless, quite right in saying, πασῶν μὲν οὖν κοινὸν τῶν ἀρχῶν, τὸ πρῶτον εἶναι, ὅθεν ἢ ἔστιν, ἢ γίνεται, ἢ γιγνώσκεται.[21] (Omnibus igitur principiis commune est, esse primum, unde aut est, aut fit, aut cognoscitur.) In the following chapter he distinguishes several kinds of causes, although somewhat superficially and confusedly. In the "Analyt. post." ii. 11, he states four kinds of causes in a more satisfactory manner: αἰτίαι δὲ τέσσαρες· μία μὲν τό τι ἦν εἶναι· μία δὲ τὸ τινῶν ὄντων, ἀνάγκη τοῦτο εἶναι· ἑτέρα δὲ, ἥ τι πρῶτον ἐκίνησε· τετάρτη δὲ, τὸ τίνος ἕνεκα.[22] (Causæ autem quatuor sunt: una quæ explicat quid res sit; altera, quam, si quædam sint, necesse est esse; tertia, quæ quid primum movit; quarta id, cujus gratia.) Now this is the origin of the division of the causæ universally adopted by the Scholastic Philosophers, into causæ materiales, formales, efficientes et finales, as may be seen in "Suarii disputationes metaphysicæ"[23]—a real compendium of Scholasticism. Even Hobbes still quotes and explains this division.[24] It is also to be found in another passage of Aristotle, this time somewhat more clearly and fully developed ("Metaph." i. 3.) and it is again briefly noticed in the book "De somno et vigilia," c. 2. As for the vitally important distinction between reason and cause, however, Aristotle no doubt betrays something like a conception of it in the "Analyt. post." i. 13, where he shows at considerable length that knowing and proving that a thing exists is a very different thing from knowing and proving why it exists: what he represents as the latter, being knowledge of the cause; as the former, knowledge of the reason. If, however, he had quite clearly recognized the difference between them, he would never have lost sight of it, but would have adhered to it throughout his writings. Now this is not the case; for even when he endeavours to distinguish the various kinds of causes from one another, as in the passages I have mentioned above, the essential difference mooted in the chapter just alluded to, never seems to occur to him again. Besides he uses the term αἴτιον indiscriminately for every kind of cause, often indeed calling reasons of knowledge, and sometimes even the premisses of a conclusion, αἰτίας, as, for instance, in his "Metaph." iv. 18; "Rhet." ii. 2; "De plantis." p. 816 (ed. Berol.), but more especially "Analyt. post." i. 2, where he calls the premisses to a conclusion simply αἰτίαι τοῦ συμπεράσματος (causes of the conclusion). Now, using the same word to express two closely connected conceptions, is a sure sign that their difference has not been recognised, or at any rate not been firmly grasped; for a mere accidental homonymous designation of two widely differing things is quite another matter. Nowhere, however, does this error appear more conspicuously than in his definition of the sophism non causæ ut causa, παρὰ τὸ μὴ αἴτιον ὡς αἴτιον, (reasoning from what is not cause as if it were cause), in the book "De sophisticis elenchis," c. 5. By αἴτιον he here understands absolutely nothing but the argument, the premisses, consequently a reason of knowledge; for this sophism consists in correctly proving the impossibility of something, while the proof has no bearing whatever upon the proposition in dispute, which it is nevertheless supposed to refute. Here, therefore, there is no question at all of physical causes. Still the use of the word αἴτιον has had so much weight with modern logicians, that they hold to it exclusively in their accounts of the fallacia extra dictionem, and explain the fallacia non causæ ut causa as designating a physical cause, which is not the case. Reimarus, for instance, does so, and G. E. Schultze and Fries—all indeed of whom I have any knowledge. The first work in which I find a correct definition of this sophism, is Twesten's Logic. Moreover, in all other scientific works and controversies the charge of a fallacia non causæ ut causa usually denotes the interpolation of a wrong cause.
Sextus Empiricus presents another forcible instance of the way in which the Ancients were wont universally to confound the logical law of the reason of knowledge with the transcendental law of cause and effect in Nature, persistently mistaking one for the other. In the 9th Book "Adversus Mathematicos," that is, the Book "Adversus Physicos," § 204, he undertakes to prove the law of causality, and says: "He who asserts that there is no cause (αἰτία), either has no cause (αἰτία) for his assertion, or has one. In the former case there is not more truth in his assertion than in its contradiction; in the latter, his assertion itself proves the existence of a cause."
By this we see that the Ancients had not yet arrived at a clear distinction between requiring a reason as the ground of a conclusion, and asking for a cause for the occurrence of a real event. As for the Scholastic Philosophers of later times, the law of causality was in their eyes an axiom above investigation: "non inquirimus an causa sit, quia nihil est per se notius," says Suarez.[25] At the same time they held fast to the above quoted Aristotelian classification; but, as far as I know at least, they equally failed to arrive at a clear idea of the necessary distinction of which we are here speaking.
§ 7. Descartes.
For we find even the excellent Descartes, who gave the first impulse to subjective reflection and thereby became the father of modern philosophy, still entangled in confusions for which it is difficult to account; and we shall soon see to what serious and deplorable consequences these confusions have led with regard to Metaphysics. In the "Responsio ad secundas objectiones in meditationes de prima philosophia," axioma i. he says: Nulla res existit, de qua non possit quæri, quænam sit causa, cur existat. Hoc enim de ipso Deo quæri potest, non quod indigeat ulla causa ut existat, sed quia ipsa ejus naturæ immensitas est CAUSA, SIVE RATIO, propter quam nulla causa indiget ad existendum. He ought to have said: The immensity of God is a logical reason from which it follows, that God needs no cause; whereas he confounds the two together and obviously has no clear consciousness of the difference between reason and cause. Properly speaking however, it is his intention which mars his insight. For here, where the law of causality demands a cause, he substitutes a reason instead of it, because the latter, unlike the former, does not immediately lead to something beyond it; and thus, by means of this very axiom, he clears the way to the Ontological Proof of the existence of God, which was really his invention, for Anselm had only indicated it in a general manner. Immediately after these axioms, of which I have just quoted the first, there comes a formal, quite serious statement of the Ontological Proof, which, in fact, already lies within that axiom, as the chicken does within the egg that has been long brooded over. Thus, while everything else stands in need of a cause for its existence, the immensitas implied in the conception of the Deity—who is introduced to us upon the ladder of the Cosmological Proof—suffices in lieu of a cause or, as the proof itself expresses it: in conceptu entis summe perfecti existentia necessaria continetur. This, then, is the sleight-of-hand trick, for the sake of which the confusion, familiar even to Aristotle, of the two principal meanings of the principle of sufficient reason, has been used directly in majorem Dei gloriam.
Considered by daylight, however, and without prejudice, this famous Ontological Proof is really a charming joke. On some occasion or other, some one excogitates a conception, composed out of all sorts of predicates, among which however he takes care to include the predicate actuality or existence, either openly stated or wrapped up for decency's sake in some other predicate, such as perfectio, immensitas, or something of the kind. Now, it is well known,—that, from a given conception, those predicates which are essential to it—i.e., without which it cannot be thought—and likewise the predicates which are essential to those predicates themselves, may be extracted by means of purely logical analyses, and consequently have logical truth: that is, they have their reason of knowledge in the given conception. Accordingly the predicate reality or existence is now extracted from this arbitrarily thought conception, and an object corresponding to it is forthwith presumed to have real existence independently of the conception.
After all, the simplest answer to such ontological demonstrations is: "All depends upon the source whence you have derived your conception: if it be taken from experience, all well and good, for in this case its object exists and needs no further proof; if, on the contrary, it has been hatched in your own sinciput, all its predicates are of no avail, for it is a mere phantasm." But we form an unfavourable prejudice against the pretensions of a theology which needed to have recourse to such proofs as this in order to gain a footing on the territory of philosophy, to which it is quite foreign, but on which it longs to trespass. But oh! for the prophetic wisdom of Aristotle! He had never even heard of the Ontological Proof; yet as though he could detect this piece of scholastic jugglery through the shades of coming darkness and were anxious to bar the road to it, he carefully shows[27] that defining a thing and proving its existence are two different matters, separate to all eternity; since by the one we learn what it is that is meant, and by the other that such a thing exists. Like an oracle of the future, he pronounces the sentence: τὸ δ' εἶναι οὐκ οὐσία οὐδενί· οὐ γὰρ γένος τὸ ὄν: (ESSE autem nullius rei essentia, est, quandoquidem ens non est genus) which means: "Existence never can belong to the essence of a thing." On the other hand, we may see how great was Herr von Schelling's veneration for the Ontological Proof in a long note, p. 152, of the 1st vol. of his "Philosophische Schriften" of 1809. We may even see in it something still more instructive, i.e., how easily Germans allow sand to be thrown in their eyes by impudence and blustering swagger. But for so thoroughly pitiable a creature as Hegel, whose whole pseudo-philosophy is but a monstrous amplification of the Ontological Proof, to have undertaken its defence against Kant, is indeed an alliance of which the Ontological Proof itself might be ashamed, however little it may in general be given to blushing. How can I be expected to speak with deference of men, who have brought philosophy into contempt?
§ 8. Spinoza.
Although Spinoza's philosophy mainly consists in the negation of the double dualism between God and the world and between soul and body, which his teacher, Descartes, had set up, he nevertheless remained true to his master in confounding and interchanging the relation between reason and consequence with that between cause and effect; he even endeavoured to draw from it a still greater advantage for his own metaphysics than Descartes for his, for he made this confusion the foundation of his whole Pantheism.
A conception contains implicite all its essential predicates, so that they may be developed out of it explicite by means of mere analytical judgments: the sum total of them being its definition. This definition therefore differs from the conception itself merely in form and not in content; for it consists of judgments which are all contained within that conception, and therefore have their reason in it, in as far as they show its essence. We may accordingly look upon these judgments as the consequences of that conception, considered as their reason. Now this relation between a conception and the judgments founded upon it and susceptible of being developed out of it by analysis, is precisely the relation between Spinoza's so-called God and the world, or rather between the one and only substance and its numberless accidents (Deus, sive substantia constans infinitis attributis[28]—Deus, sive omnia Dei attributa). It is therefore the relation in knowledge of the reason to its consequent; whereas true Theism (Spinoza's Theism is merely nominal) assumes the relation of the cause to its effect, in which the cause remains different and separate from the consequence, not only in the way in which we consider them, but really and essentially, therefore in themselves to all eternity. For the word God, honestly used, means a cause such as this of the world, with the addition of personality. An impersonal God is, on the contrary, a contradictio in adjecto. Now as nevertheless, even in the case as stated by him, Spinoza desired to retain the word God to express substance, and explicitly called this the cause of the world, he could find no other way to do it than by completely intermingling the two relations, and confounding the principle of the reason of knowledge with the principle of causality. I call attention to the following passages in corroboration of this statement. Notandum, dari necessario unius cujusque rei existentis certam aliquam CAUSAM, propter quam existit. Et notandum, hanc causam, propter quart aliqua res existit, vel debere contineri in ipsa natura et DEFINITIONE rei existentis (nimirum quod ad ipsius naturam pertinet existere), vel debere EXTRA ipsam dari.[29] In the last case he means an efficient cause, as appears from what follows, whereas in the first he means a mere reason of knowledge; yet he identifies both, and by this means prepares the way for identifying God with the world, which is his intention. This is the artifice of which he always makes use, and which he has learnt from Descartes. He substitutes a cause acting from without, for a reason of knowledge lying within, a given conception. Ex necessitate divinæ naturæ omnia, quæ sub intellectum infinitum cadere possunt, sequi debent.[30] At the same time he calls God everywhere the cause of the world. Quidquid existit Dei potentiam, quæ omnium rerum CAUSA est, exprimit.[31]—Deus est omnium rerum CAUSA immanens, non vero transiens.[32]—Deus non tantam est CAUSA EFFICIENS rerum existentiæ, sed etiam essentiæ.[33]—Ex data quacunque IDEA aliquis EFFECTUS necessario sequi debat.[34]—And: Nulla res nisi a causa externa potest destrui.[35]—Demonstr. Definitio cujuscunque rei, ipsius essentiam (essence, nature, as differing from existentia, existence), affirmat, sed non negat; sive rei essentiam ponit, sed non tollit. Dum itaque ad rem ipsam tantum, non autem ad causas externas attendimus, nihil in eadem poterimus invenire, quod ipsam possit destruere. This means, that as no conception can contain anything which contradicts its definition, i.e., the sum total of its predicates, neither can an existence contain anything which might become a cause of its destruction. This view, however, is brought to a climax in the somewhat lengthy second demonstration of the 11th Proposition, in which he confounds a cause capable of destroying or annihilating a being, with a contradiction contained in its definition and therefore destroying that definition. His need of confounding cause with reason here becomes so urgent, that he can never say causa or ratio alone, but always finds it necessary to put ratio seu causa. Accordingly, this occurs as many as eight times in the same page, in order to conceal the subterfuge. Descartes had done the same in the above-mentioned axiom.
Thus, properly speaking, Spinoza's Pantheism is merely the realisation of Descartes' Ontological Proof. First, he adopts Descartes' ontotheological proposition, to which we have alluded above, ipsa naturæ Dei immensitas est CAUSA SIVE RATIO, propter quam nulla causa indiget ad existendum, always saying substantia instead of Deus (in the beginning); and then he finishes by substantiæ essentia necessario involvit existentiam, ergo erit substantia CAUSA SUI.[36] Therefore the very same argument which Descartes had used to prove the existence of God, is used by Spinoza to prove the existence of the world,—which consequently needs no God. He does this still more distinctly in the 2nd Scholium to the 8th Proposition: Quoniam ad naturam substantia pertinet existere, debet ejus definitio necessariam existentiam involvere, et consequenter ex sola ejus definitione debet ipsius existentia concludi. But this substance is, as we know, the world. The demonstration to Proposition 24 says in the same sense: Id, cujus natura in se considerata (i.e., in its definition) involvit existentiam, est CAUSA SUI.
For what Descartes had stated in an exclusively ideal and subjective sense, i.e., only for us, for cognitive purposes—in this instance for the sake of proving the existence of God—Spinoza took in a real and objective sense, as the actual relation of God to the world. According to Descartes, the existence of God is contained in the conception of God, therefore it becomes an argument for his actual being: according to Spinoza, God is himself contained in the world. Thus what, with Descartes, was only reason of knowledge, becomes, with Spinoza, reason of fact. If the former, in his Ontological Proof, taught that the existentia of God is a consequence of the essentia of God, the latter turns this into causa sui, and boldly opens his Ethics with: per causam sui intelligo id, cujus essentia (conception) involvit existentiam, remaining deaf to Aristotle's warning cry, τὸ δ' εἶναι οὐκ οὐσία οὐδενί! Now, this is the most palpable confusion of reason and cause. And if Neo-Spinozans (Schellingites, Hegelians, &c.), with whom words are wont to pass for thoughts, often indulge in pompous, solemn admiration for this causa sui, for my own part I see nothing but a contradictio in adjecto in this same causa sui, a before that is after, an audacious command to us, to sever arbitrarily the eternal causal chain—something, in short, very like the proceeding of that Austrian, who finding himself unable to reach high enough to fasten the clasp on his tightly-strapped shako, got upon a chair. The right emblem for causa sui is Baron Münchhausen, sinking on horseback into the water, clinging by the legs to his horse and pulling both himself and the animal out by his own pigtail, with the motto underneath: Causa sui.
Let us finally cast a look at the 16th proposition of the 1st book of the Ethics. Here we find Spinoza concluding from the proposition, ex data cujuscunque rei definitione plures proprietates intellectus concludit, quæ revera ex eadem necessario sequuntur, that ex necessitate divinæ, naturæ (i.e., taken as a reality), infinita infinitis modis sequi debent: this God therefore unquestionably stands in the same relation to the world as a conception to its definition. The corollary, Deum omnium rerum esse CAUSAM EFFICIENTEM, is nevertheless immediately connected with it. It is impossible to carry the confusion between reason and cause farther, nor could it lead to graver consequences than here. But this shows the importance of the subject of the present treatise.
In endeavouring to add a third step to the climax in question, Herr von Schelling has contributed a small afterpiece to these errors, into which two mighty intellects of the past had fallen owing to insufficient clearness in thinking. If Descartes met the demands of the inexorable law of causality, which reduced his God to the last straits, by substituting a reason instead of the cause required, in order thus to set the matter at rest; and if Spinoza made a real cause out of this reason, i.e., causa sui, his God thereby becoming the world itself: Schelling now made reason and consequent separate in God himself.[37] He thus gave the thing still greater consistency by elevating it to a real, substantial hypostasis of reason and consequent, and introducing us to something "in God, which is not himself, but his reason, as a primary reason, or rather reason beyond reason (abyss)." Hoc quidem vere palmarium est.—It is now known that Schelling had taken the whole fable from Jacob Böhme's "Full account of the terrestrial and celestial mystery;" but what appears to me to be less well known, is the source from which Jacob Böhme himself had taken it, and the real birth-place of this so-called abyss, wherefore I now take the liberty to mention it. It is the βυθός, i.e. abyssus, vorago, bottomless pit, reason beyond reason of the Valentinians (a heretical sect of the second century) which, in silence—co-essential with itself—engendered intelligence and the world, as Irenæus[38] relates in the following terms: λέγουσι γάρ τινα εἶναι ἐν ἀοράτοις, καὶ ἀκατονομάστοις ὑψώμασι τέλειον Αἰῶνα προόντα· τοῦτον δὲ καὶ προαρχήν, καὶ προπάτορα, καὶ βυθὸν καλοῦσιν.—Ὑπάρχοντα δὲ αὐτὸν ἀχώρητον καὶ ἀόρατον, ἀΐδιόν τε καὶ ἀγέννητον, ἐν ἡσυχίᾳ καὶ ἠρεμίᾳ πολλῇ γεγονέναι ἐν ἀπείροις αἰῶσι χρόνων. Συνυπάρχειν δὲ αὐτῷ καὶ Ἔννοιαν, ἣν δὲ καὶ Χάριν, καὶ Σιγὴν ὀνομάζουσι· καὶ ἐννοηθῆναί ποτε ἀφ' ἑαυτοῦ προβαλέσθαι τὸν βυθὸν τοῦτον ἀρχὴν τῶν πάντων, καὶ καθάπερ σπέρμα τὴν προβολὴν ταύτην (ἣν προβαλέσθαι ἐνενοήθη) καθέσθαι, ὡς ἐν μήτρᾳ, τῇ συνυπαρχούσῃ, ἑαυτῷ Σιγῇ. Ταύτην δὲ, ὑποδηξαμένην τὸ σπέρμα τοῦτο, καὶ ἐγκύμονα γενομένην, ἀποκυῆσαι Νοῦν, ὅμοιόν τε καὶ ἴσον τῷ προβαλόντι, καὶ μόνον χωροῦντα τὸ μέγεθος τοῦ Πατρός. Τὸν δὲ νοῦν τοῦτον καὶ μονογενῆ καλοῦσι, καὶ ἀρχὴν τῶν πάντων.[39] (Dicunt enim esse quendam in sublimitatibus illis, quæ nec oculis cerni, nec nominari possunt, perfectum Æonem præexistentem, quem et proarchen, et propatorem, et Bythum vocant. Eum autem, quum incomprehensibilis et invisibilis, sempiternus idem, et ingenitus esset, infinitis temporum seculis in summa quiete ac tranquillitate fuisse. Unâ etiam cum eo Cogitationem exstitisse, quam et Gratiam et Silentium (Sigen) nuncupant. Hunc porro Bythum in animum, aliquando induxisse, rerum omnium initium proferre, atque hanc, quam in animum induxerat, productionem, in Sigen (silentium) quæ unâ cum eo erat, non secus atque in vulvam demisisse. Hanc vero, suscepto hoc semine, prægnantem effectam peperisse Intellectum, parenti suo parem et æqualem, atque ita comparatum, ut solus paternæ magnitudinis capax esset. Atque hunc Intellectum et Monogenem et Patrem et principum omnium rerum appellant.)
Somehow or other this must have come to Jacob Böhme's hearing from the History of Heresy, and Herr von Schelling must have received it from him in all faith.
§ 9. Leibnitz.
It was Leibnitz who first formally stated the Principle of Sufficient Reason as a main principle of all knowledge and of all science. He proclaims it very pompously in various passages of his works, giving himself great airs, as though he had been the first to invent it; yet all he finds to say about it is, that everything must have a sufficient reason for being as it is, and not otherwise: and this the world had probably found out before him. True, he makes casual allusions to the distinction between its two chief significations, without, however, laying any particular stress upon it, or explaining it clearly anywhere else. The principal reference to it is in his "Principia Philosophiæ," § 32, and a little more satisfactorily in the French version, entitled "Monadologie": En vertu du principe de la raison suffisante, nous considérons qu'aucun fait ne sauroit se trouver vrai ou existant, aucune énonciation véritable, sans qu'il y ait une raison suffisante, pourquoi il en soit ainsi et non pas autrement.[40]
§ 10. Wolf.
The first writer who explicitly separated the two chief significations of our principle, and stated the difference between them in detail, was therefore Wolf. Wolf, however, does not place the principle of sufficient reason in Logic, as is now the custom, but in Ontology. True, in § 71 he urges the necessity of not confounding the principle of sufficient reason of knowing with that of cause and effect; still he does not clearly determine here wherein the difference consists. Indeed, he himself mistakes the one for the other; for he quotes instances of cause and effect in confirmation of the principium rationis sufficientis in this very chapter, de ratione sufficiente, §§ 70, 74, 75, 77, which, had he really wished to preserve that distinction, ought rather to have been quoted in the chapter de causis of the same work. In said chapter he again brings forward precisely similar instances, and once more enunciates the principium cognoscendi (§ 876), which does not certainly belong to it, having been already discussed, yet which serves to introduce the immediately following clear and definite distinction between this principle and the law of causality, §§ 881-884. Principium, he continues, dicitur id, quod in se continet rationem alterius; and he distinguishes three kinds: 1. Principium Fiendi (causa), which he defines as ratio actualitatis alterius, e.g., si lapis calescit, ignis aut radii solares sunt rationes, cur calor lapidi insit.—2. Principium Essendi, which he defines as ratio possibilitatis alterius; in eodem, exemplo, ratio possibilitatis, cur lapis calorem recipere possit, est in essentia seu modo compositionis lapidis. This last conception seems to me inadmissible. If it has any meaning at all, possibility means correspondence with the general conditions of experience known to us à priori, as Kant has sufficiently shown. From these conditions we know, with respect to Wolf's instance of the stone, that changes are possible as effects proceeding from causes: we know, that is, that one state can succeed another, if the former contains the conditions for the latter. In this case we find, as effect, the state of being warm in the stone; as cause, the preceding state of a limited capacity for warmth in the stone and its contact with free heat. Now, Wolf's naming the first mentioned property of this state principium essendi, and the second, principium fiendi, rests upon a delusion caused by the fact that, so far as the stone is concerned, the conditions are more lasting and can therefore wait longer for the others. That the stone should be as it is: that is, that it should be chemically so constituted as to bring with it a particular degree of specific heat, consequently a capacity for heat which stands in inverse proportion to its specific heat; that besides it should, on the other hand, come into contact with free heat, is the consequence of a whole chain of antecedent causes, all of them principia fiendi; but it is the coincidence of circumstances on both sides which primarily constitutes that condition, upon which, as cause, the becoming warm depends, as effect. All this leaves no room for Wolf's principium essendi, which I therefore do not admit, and concerning which I have here entered somewhat into detail, partly because I mean to use the word myself later on in a totally different sense; partly also, because this explanation contributes to facilitate the comprehension of the law of causality.—3. Wolf, as we have said, distinguishes a Principium Cognoscendi, and refers also under causa to a causa impulsiva, sive ratio voluntatem determinans.
§ 11. Philosophers between Wolf and Kant.
Baumgarten repeats the Wolfian distinctions in his "Metaphysica," §§ 20-24, and §§ 306-313.
Reimarus, in his "Vernunftlehre,"[41] § 81, distinguishes 1. Inward reason, of which his explanation agrees with Wolf's ratio essendi, and might even be applicable to the ratio cognoscendi, if he did not transfer to things what only applies to conceptions; 2. Outward reason, i.e. causa.—§ 120 et seqq., he rightly defines the ratio cognoscendi as a condition of the proposition; but in an example, § 125, he nevertheless confounds it with cause.
Lambert, in the new Organon, does not mention Wolf's distinctions; he shows, however, that he recognizes a difference between reason of knowledge and cause;[42] for he says that God is the principium essendi of truths, and that truths are the principia cognoscendi of God.
Plattner, in his Aphorisms, § 868, says: "What is called reason and conclusion within our knowledge (principium cognoscendi, ratio—rationatum), is in reality cause and effect (causa efficiens—effectus). Every cause is a reason, every effect a conclusion." He is therefore of opinion that cause and effect, in reality, correspond to the conceptions reason and consequence in our thought; that the former stand in a similar relation with respect to the latter as substance and accident, for instance, to subject and predicate, or the quality of the object to our sensation of that quality, &c. &c. I think it useless to refute this opinion, for it is easy to see that premisses and conclusion in judgments stand in an entirely different relation to one another from a knowledge of cause and effect; although in individual cases even knowledge of a cause, as such, may be the reason of a judgment which enunciates the effect.[43]
§ 12. Hume.
No one before this serious thinker had ever doubted what follows. First, and before all things in heaven and on earth, is the Principle of Sufficient Reason in the form of the Law of Causality. For it is a veritas æterna: i.e. it is in and by itself above Gods and Fate; whereas everything else, the understanding, for instance, which thinks that principle, and no less the whole world and whatever may be its cause—atoms, motion, a Creator, et cætera—is what it is only in accordance with, and by virtue of, that principle. Hume was the first to whom it occurred to inquire whence this law of causality derives its authority, and to demand its credentials. Everyone knows the result at which he arrives: that causality is nothing beyond the empirically perceived succession of things and states in Time, with which habit has made us familiar. The fallacy of this result is felt at once, nor is it difficult to refute. The merit lies in the question itself; for it became the impulse and starting-point for Kant's profound researches, and by their means led to an incomparably deeper and more thorough view of Idealism than the one which had hitherto existed, and which was chiefly Berkeley's. It led to transcendental Idealism, from which arises the conviction, that the world is as dependent upon us, as a whole, as we are dependent upon it in detail. For, by pointing out the existence of those transcendental principles, as such, which enable us to determine à priori, i.e. before all experience, certain points concerning objects and their possibility, he proved that these things could not exist, as they present themselves to us, independently of our knowledge. The resemblance between a world such as this and a dream, is obvious.
§ 13. Kant and his School.
Kant's chief passage on the Principle of Sufficient Reason is in a little work entitled "On a discovery, which is to permit us to dispense with all Criticism of Pure Reason."[44] Section I., lit. A. Here he strongly urges the distinction between "the logical (formal) principle of cognition 'every proposition must have its reason,' and the transcendental (material) principle 'every thing must have its cause,'" in his controversy with Eberhard, who had identified them as one and the same.—I intend myself to criticize Kant's proof of the à priori and consequently transcendental character of the law of causality further on in a separate paragraph, after having given the only true proof.
With these precedents to guide them, the several writers on Logic belonging to Kant's school; Hofbauer, Maass, Jakob, Kiesewetter and others, have defined pretty accurately the distinction between reason and cause. Kiesewetter, more especially, gives it thus quite satisfactorily:[45] "Reason of knowledge is not to be confounded with reason of fact (cause). The Principle of Sufficient Reason belongs to Logic, that of Causality to Metaphysics.[46] The former is the fundamental principle of thought; the latter that of experience. Cause refers to real things, logical reason has only to do with representations."
Kant's adversaries urge this distinction still more strongly. G. E. Schultze[47] complains that the Principle of Sufficient Reason is confounded with that of Causality. Salomon Maimon[48] regrets that so much should be said about the sufficient reason without an explanation of what is meant by it, while he blames Kant[49] for deriving the principle of causality from the logical form of hypothetical judgments.
F. H. Jacobi[50] says, that by the confounding of the two conceptions, reason and cause, an illusion is produced, which has given rise to various false speculations; and he points out the distinction between them after his own fashion. Here, however, as is usual with him, we find a good deal more of self-complacent phrase-jugglery than of serious philosophy.
How Herr von Schelling finally distinguishes reason from cause, may be seen in his "Aphorisms introductory to the Philosophy of Nature,"[51] § 184, which open the first book of the first volume of Marcus and Schelling's "Annals of Medecine." Here we are taught that gravity is the reason and light the cause of all things. This I merely quote as a curiosity; for such random talk would not otherwise deserve a place among the opinions of serious and honest inquirers.
§ 14. On the Proofs of the Principle.
We have still to record various fruitless attempts which have been made to prove the Principle of Sufficient Reason, mostly without clearly defining in which sense it was taken: Wolf's, for instance, in his Ontology, § 70, repeated by Baumgarten in his "Metaphysics," § 20. It is useless to repeat and refute it here, as it obviously rests on a verbal quibble. Plattner[52] and Jakob[53] have tried other proofs, in which, however, the circle is easily detected. I purpose dealing with those of Kant further on, as I have already said. Since I hope, in the course of this treatise, to point out the different laws of our cognitive faculties, of which the principle of sufficient reason is the common expression, it will result as a matter of course, that this principle cannot be proved, and that, on the contrary, Aristotle's remark:[54] λόγον ζητοῦσι ὧν οὐκ ἔστι λόγος. ἀποδείξεως γὰρ ἀρχὴ οὐκ ἀπόδειξίς ἐστι (rationem eorum quærant, quorum non est ratio: demonstrationis enim principium non est demonstratio) may be applied with equal propriety to all these proofs. For every proof is a reference to something already recognised; and if we continue requiring a proof again for this something, whatever it be, we at last arrive at certain propositions which express the forms and laws, therefore the conditions, of all thought and of all knowledge, in the application of which consequently all thought and all knowledge consists: so that certainty is nothing but correspondence with those conditions, forms, and laws, therefore their own certainty cannot again be ascertained by means of other propositions. In the fifth chapter I mean to discuss the kind of truth which belongs to propositions such as these.
To seek a proof for the Principle of Sufficient Reason, is, moreover, an especially flagrant absurdity, which shows a want of reflection. Every proof is a demonstration of the reason for a judgment which has been pronounced, and which receives the predicate true in virtue precisely of that demonstration. This necessity for a reason is exactly what the Principle of Sufficient Reason expresses. Now if we require a proof of it, or, in other words, a demonstration of its reason, we thereby already assume it to be true, nay, we found our demand precisely upon that assumption, and thus we find ourselves involved in the circle of exacting a proof of our right to exact a proof.