triumph over the instincts of nature, he is alone, and in opposition to all mankind, and richly merits to have this saying applied to him: "Insanity is insanity still, no matter how sublime it may be."
Those very philosophers, who carried their skepticism the farthest, agreed upon the necessity of accommodating themselves in practice to the appearances of the senses, and of reserving doubt for the world of speculation. Philosophers may dispute on every thing as much as they please, but, the dispute over, they cease to be philosophers, and are again men, similar to other men, and, like them all, enjoy the fruits of certainty. This, Hume, who denied with Berkely the existence of bodies, confesses: "I dine," he says; "I play a game at backgammon; I converse, and am happy with my friends; and when, after three or four hours of amusement, I would return to these speculations, they appear so cold, so strained, and so ridiculous, that I cannot find it in my heart to enter into them any farther. Here, then, I find myself absolutely and necessarily determined to live, and talk, and act, like other people, in the common affairs of life."[2]
13. We must, in discussing certainty, guard against the feverish desire of shaking the foundations of human reason. We should, in this class of questions, seek a thorough knowledge of the principles of science, and the laws which govern the development of our mind. To labor to destroy them is to mistake the object of true philosophy: we have only to make them a matter of observation, just as we do those of the material world, without any intention of disturbing the admirable order prevailing in the universe. Skeptics, who, in order to render their philosophy more solid, begin by doubting every thing, resemble the man, who, desirous of ascertaining, and exactly determining the phenomena of life, should bare his bosom, and thrust the knife into his heart.
Sobriety is as necessary to the health of the mind, as to that of the body: there is no wisdom without prudence, no philosophy without judgment. In the soul of man there is a divine light which directs him with admirable certainty. If we do not persist in extinguishing it, its splendor guides us, and when we reach the term of science it shows it to us, and makes us read in distinct characters the words—enough, you can go no farther. These words are written by the Author of all beings; he it is that has given laws to the body as well as to the mind, and he contains in his infinite essence the ultimate reason of all things.
14. The certainty which is prior to all examination is not blind; on the contrary, it springs either from the clearness of the intellectual vision, or from an instinct conformable to reason: it is not opposed to reason, but is its basis. Our mind, in discursive reasoning, knows truth by the connection of propositions, or by the light which is reflected from one truth upon another. In primitive certainty the vision is by direct light, and does not need reflection.
When, then, we note the existence of certainty, we do not speak of a blind fact, nor do we seek to extinguish the light in its very source; we would rather say, that it is more brilliant there than in its radiations. We see a body whose splendor illumines the world in which we live; ought we, if requested to explain its nature and its relations with other objects, to begin by destroying these? When naturalists would examine the nature of light, and determine its laws, they do not begin by removing the light itself, and placing themselves in darkness.
15. True, this method of philosophizing is somewhat dogmatic, but dogmatic as it is, it has on its side, as we have seen, Pyrrho, Hume, and Fichte. It is not simply a method of philosophy, it is the voluntary submission of our very nature to an inevitable necessity, the combination of reason with instinct, a simultaneous attention to different voices calling from the depths of our soul. According to Pascal, "nature confounds the Pyrrhonians, and reason the dogmatists." This passes for a profound saying, and is so under a certain aspect; but it is notwithstanding somewhat inexact. The confusion is not the same in both cases: reason does not confound the dogmatist, unless he separates it from nature; but nature confounds the Pyrrhonian, either alone or joined with reason. The true dogmatist founds his reason upon nature; it knows itself, confesses the impossibility of proving every thing, and does not arbitrarily assume any principle that it needs unless nature itself furnishes it. And thus it does not confound the dogmatist, when guided by it he seeks a sure foundation for it. Nature, when it confounds the Pyrrhonian, attests the triumph of the reason of dogmatists, whose principal argument against Pyrrhonians, is the voice of nature itself. Pascal's thought would have been more exact if thus worded: nature confounds the Pyrrhonian and is necessary to the reason of dogmatists. This is less antithetical, but more true. Dogmatists do not deny nature; reason without it is impotent; to exercise its strength it needs a resting point. With such, Archimedes offered to move the earth, without this his immense lever could not stir a single atom.(2)
CHAPTER III.
CERTAINTY OF THE HUMAN RACE, AND PHILOSOPHICAL CERTAINTY.
16. Certainty does not originate in reflection; it is the spontaneous product of man's nature, and is annexed to the direct act of the intellectual and sensitive faculties. It is a condition necessary to the exercise of both, and without it life were a chaos; we therefore possess it instinctively, and without any reflection, and we enjoy the fruit of this as of all those other benefits of the Creator, which are inseparably joined to our existence.
17. It is, then, necessary to distinguish between the certainty of the human race and philosophical certainty, although, to speak frankly, it is not easy to conceive what can be the value of any human certainty distinct from that of the human race. If we set aside the efforts which the philosopher sometimes makes to discover the basis of human knowledge, we shall readily find him confounded with the rest of mankind. This cavil leaves no trace in his mind with respect to the certainty of all that the human race is certain of. He then discovers that the doubt which he felt was not a real doubt, although he may have deluded himself into a contrary belief. His doubts were simple suppositions, nothing more. When his meditation is over, and perhaps even while it lasts, he finds that he is as certain as the most ignorant individual of his internal acts, the existence of his own body, of other bodies around him, and of a thousand other things, which constitute the amount of knowledge requisite to the wants of life.
Question all, from the infant of a few summers, to the sage of many years and mature judgment, on the certainty of their own existence, their acts internal or external, their friends and relatives, the people among whom they dwell, objects seen or heard of, and you will not detect any hesitation in their answers, or any kind of difference in the grades of their certainty. If they have no knowledge of the philosophical questions touching these matters, you may read in their countenances wonder and astonishment that any one should seriously investigate things so evident.
18. Impossible as it is for us to know in what manner the sensitive, intellectual, and moral powers of children are developed, it is equally impossible to prove a a prior, by analyzing the operations of his mind, that reflex acts do not concur to the formation of certainty; but it will not be difficult to find proofs of this in the exercise of these faculties when well developed. If we observe attentively, we shall see that the child's faculties habitually operate in a direct, not a reflex manner; which shows that the development is made directly, not by reflection. Were the primitive development the work of reflexion, the reflective power would be great in the child. But this is not the case. Very few men are ever endowed with it, and in the greater part of them it is very nearly null. They who attain to it, acquire it only by assiduous labor, and not without great violence to himself, can any one pass from direct to reflex cognition.
19. No matter what you teach a child, he perceives it indeed, but call his attention to the perception itself, and his understanding is at once obscured and confused. Let us make the experiment. Suppose we would teach a child the elements of geometry.
"Do you see this figure bounded by three lines? It is called a triangle; the lines are called sides, and the points where they
