CHAPTER VII.

ON THE FOURTH CLASS OF OBJECTS FOR THE SUBJECT, AND THE FORM OF THE PRINCIPLE OF SUFFICIENT REASON WHICH PREDOMINATES IN IT.

§ 40. _General Explanation._

The last Class of Objects for our representative faculty which remains to be examined is a peculiar but highly important one. It comprises but _one_ object for each individual: that is, the immediate object of the inner sense, the _Subject in volition_, which is Object for the Knowing Subject; wherefore it manifests itself in Time alone, never in Space, and as we shall see, even in Time under an important restriction.

§ 41. _Subject of Knowledge and Object._

All knowledge presupposes Subject and Object. Even self-consciousness (_Selbstbewusstsein_) therefore is not absolutely simple, but, like our consciousness of all other things (_i.e._, the faculty of perception), it is subdivided into that which is known and that which knows. Now, that which is known manifests itself absolutely and exclusively as _Will_.

The Subject accordingly knows itself exclusively as _willing_, but not as _knowing_. For the _ego_ which represents, never can itself become representation or Object, since it conditions all representations as their necessary correlate; rather may the following beautiful passage from the Sacred Upanishad be applied to it: _Id videndum non est: omnia videt; et id audiendum non est: omnia audit; sciendum non est: omnia scit: et intelligendum, non est: omnia intelligit. Præter id, videns, et sciens, et audiens, et intelligens ens aliud non est._[151]

[151] "Oupnekhat," vol. i. p. 202.

There can therefore be no _knowledge of knowing_, because this would imply separation of the Subject from knowing, while it nevertheless knew that knowing--which is impossible.

My answer to the objection, "I not only know, but know also that I know," would be, "Your knowing that you know only differs in words from your knowing. 'I know that I know' means nothing more than 'I know,' and this again, unless it is further determined, means nothing more than '_ego_.' If your knowing and your knowing that you know are two different things, just try to separate them, and first to know without knowing that you know, then to know that you know without this knowledge being at the same time knowing." No doubt, by leaving all _special_ knowing out of the question, we may at last arrive at the proposition "_I know_"--the last abstraction we are able to make; but this proposition is identical with "_Objects exist for me_," and this again is identical with "_I am Subject_," in which nothing more is contained than in the bare word "_I_."

Now, it may still be asked how the various cognitive faculties belonging to the Subject, such as Sensibility, Understanding, Reason, are known to us, if we do not know the Subject. It is not through our knowing having become an Object for us that these faculties are known to us, for then there would not be so many conflicting judgments concerning them; they are inferred rather, or more correctly, they are general expressions for the established classes of representations which, at all times, have been more or less clearly distinguished in those cognitive faculties. But, with reference to the necessary correlate of these representations as their condition, _i.e._, the Subject, these faculties are abstracted from them (the representations), and stand consequently towards the classes of representations in precisely the same relation as the Subject in general towards the Object in general. Now, just as the Object is at once posited with the Subject (for the word itself would otherwise have no meaning), and conversely, as the Subject is at once posited with the Object--so that being the Subject means exactly as much as having an Object, and being an Object means the same thing as being known by the Subject--so likewise, when an Object is assumed as being determined _in any particular way_, do we also assume that the Subject _knows precisely in that particular way_. So far therefore it is immaterial whether we say that Objects have such and such peculiar inherent determinations, or that the Subject knows in such and such ways. It is indifferent whether we say that Objects are divided into such and such classes, or that such and such different cognitive faculties are peculiar to the Subject. In that singular compound of depth and superficiality, Aristotle, are to be found traces even of insight into this truth, and indeed the critical philosophy lies in embryo in his works. He says:[152] ἡ ψυχὴ τὰ ὄντα πώς ἐστι πάντα (anima quammodo est universa, quæ sunt). And again: ὁ νοῦς ἐστι εἶδος εἰδῶν, _i.e._, the understanding is the form of forms, καὶ ἡ αἴσθησις εἶδος αἰσθητῶν, and sensibility the form of sensuous objects. Accordingly, it is all one whether we say, "sensibility and understanding are no more;" or, "the world is at an end." It comes to the same thing whether we say, "There are no conceptions," or "Reason is gone and animals alone remain."

[152] Aristot., "De anima," iii. 8. "In a certain sense the intellect is all that exists." (Tr.'s Add.)

The dispute between Realism and Idealism, which appeared for the last time in the dispute between the Dogmatists and Kantians, or between Ontology and Metaphysics on the one hand and Transcendental Æsthetic and Transcendental Logic on the other, arose out of the misapprehension of this relation and was based upon its misapprehension with reference to the First and Third Classes of representations as established by me, just as the mediæval dispute between Realists and Nominalists rested upon the misapprehension of this relation with reference to the Second Class.

§ 42. _The Subject of Volition._

According to what has preceded, the Subject of knowledge can never be known; it can never become Object or representation. Nevertheless, as we have not only an outer self-knowledge (in sensuous perception), but an inner one also; and as, on the other hand, every knowledge, by its very nature, presupposes a knower and a known, what is known within us as such, is not the knower, but the willer, the Subject of Volition: the Will. Starting from knowledge, we may assert that "I know" is an analytical, "I will," on the contrary, a synthetical, and moreover an _à posteriori_ proposition, that is, it is given by experience--in this case by inner experience (_i.e._, in Time alone). In so far therefore the Subject of volition would be an Object for us. Introspection always shows us to ourselves as _willing_. In this _willing_, however, there are numerous degrees, from the faintest wish to passion, and I have often shown[153] that not only all our emotions, but even all those movements of our inner man, which are subsumed under the wide conception of feeling, are states of the will.

[153] See "Die beiden Grundprobleme der Ethik," p. 11, and in several other places.

Now, the identity of the willing with the knowing Subject, in virtue of which the word "I" includes and designates both, is the _nodus_[154] of the Universe, and therefore inexplicable. For we can only comprehend relations between Objects; but two Objects never can be one, excepting as parts of a whole. Here, where the Subject is in question, the rules by which we know Objects are no longer applicable, and actual identity of the knower with what is known as willing--that is, of Subject and Object--is _immediately given_. Now, whoever has clearly realized the utter impossibility of explaining this identity, will surely concur with me in calling it the miracle κατ' ἐξοχήν.

[154] _Weltknoten._

Just as the Understanding is the subjective correlate to our First Class of representations, the Reason to the Second, and pure Sensibility to the Third, so do we find that the correlate to this Fourth Class is the inner sense, or Self-consciousness in general.

§ 43. _Willing. The Law of Motives (Motivation)._

It is just because the willing Subject is immediately given in self-consciousness, that we are unable further to define or to describe what willing is; properly speaking, it is the most direct knowledge we have, nay, one whose immediateness must finally throw light upon every other knowledge, as being very mediate.

At every resolution that we take ourselves, or that we see others take, we deem ourselves justified in asking, why? That is, we assume that something must have previously occurred, from which this resolution has resulted, and we call this something its reason, or, more correctly, the motive of the action which now follows. Without such a reason or motive, the action is just as inconceivable for us, as the movement of a lifeless body without being pushed or pulled. Motives therefore belong to causes, and have also been already numbered and characterized among them in § 20, as the third form of Causality. But all Causality is only the form of the Principle of Sufficient Reason in the First Class of Objects: that is, in the corporeal world given us in external perception. There it forms the link which connects changes one with another, the cause being that which, coming from outside, conditions each occurrence. The inner nature of such occurrences on the contrary continues to be a mystery for us: for we always remain on the outside. We certainly see this cause necessarily produce that effect; but we do not learn how it is actually enabled to do so, or what is going on inside. Thus we see mechanical, physical, chemical effects, as well as those brought about by _stimuli_, in each instance follow from their respective causes without on that account ever completely understanding the process, the essential part of which remains a mystery for us; so we attribute it to qualities of bodies, to forces of Nature, or to vital energy, which, however, are all _qualitates occultæ_. Nor should we be at all better off as to comprehension of the movements and actions of animals and of human beings, which would also appear to us as induced in some unaccountable way by their causes (motives), were it not that here we are granted an insight into the inward part of the process; we know, that is, by our own inward experience, that this is an act of the will called forth by the motive, which consists in a mere representation. Thus the effect produced by the motive, unlike that produced by all other causes, is not only known by us from outside, in a merely indirect way, but at the same time from inside, quite directly, and therefore according to its whole mode of action. Here we stand as it were behind the scenes, and learn the secret of the process by which cause produces effect in its most inward nature; for here our knowledge comes to us through a totally different channel and in a totally different way. From this results the important proposition: _The action of motives (motivation) is causality seen from within_. Here accordingly causality presents itself in quite a different way, in quite a different medium, and for quite another kind of knowledge; therefore it must now be exhibited as a special and peculiar form of our principle, which consequently here presents itself as the Principle of the Sufficient Reason of Acting, _principium rationis sufficientis agendi_, or, more briefly, as the _Law of Motives (Law of Motivation)_.

As a clue to my philosophy in general, I here add, that this Fourth Class of Objects for the Subject, that is, the one object contained in it, the _will_ which we apprehend within us, stands in the same relation towards the First Class as the law of motives towards the law of causality, as I have established it in § 20. This truth is the corner-stone of my whole Metaphysic.

As to the way in which, and the necessity with which, motives act, and as to the dependence of their action upon empirical, individual character, and even upon individual capacity for knowledge, &c. &c., I refer my readers to my Prize-essay on the Freedom of the Will, in which I have treated all this more fully.

§ 44. _Influence of the Will over the Intellect._

It is not upon causality proper, but upon the identity of the knowing with the willing Subject, as shown in § 42, that the influence is based, which the will exercises over the intellect, when it obliges it to repeat representations that have once been present to it, and in general to turn its attention in this or that direction and evoke at pleasure any particular series of thoughts. And even in this, the will is determined by the law of motives, in accordance with which it also secretly rules what is called the association of ideas, to which I have devoted a separate chapter (the 14th) in the second volume of my chief work. This association of ideas is itself nothing but the application of the Principle of Sufficient Reason in its four forms to the subjective train of thought; that is, to the presence of representations in our consciousness. But it is the will of the individual that sets the whole mechanism in motion, by urging the intellect, in accordance with the interest, _i.e._, the individual aims, of the person, to recall, together with its present representations, those which either logically or analogically, or by proximity in Time or Space, are nearly related to them. The will's activity in this, however, is so immediate, that in most cases we have no clear consciousness of it; and so rapid, that we are at times even unconscious of the occasion which has thus called forth a representation. In such cases, it appears as if something had come into our consciousness quite independently of all connection with anything else; that this, however, is impossible, is precisely the Root of the Principle of Sufficient Reason, which has been fully explained in the above-mentioned chapter of my chief work.[155] Every picture which suddenly presents itself to our imagination, every judgment even that does not follow its previously present reason, must be called forth by an act of volition having a motive; although that motive may often escape our perception owing to its insignificance, and although such acts of volition are often in like manner unperceived, because they take place so easily, that wish and fulfilment are simultaneous.

[155] See "Die Welt, a. W. u. V." vol. ii. ch. xiv.

§ 45. _Memory._

That peculiar faculty of the knowing Subject which enables it to obey the will the more readily in repeating representations, the oftener they have already been present to it--in other words, its capacity for being exercised--is what we call _Memory_. I cannot agree with the customary view, by which it is looked upon as a sort of store-house in which we keep a stock of ready-made representations always at our disposal, only without being always conscious of their possession. The voluntary repetition of representations which have once been present becomes so easy through practice, that one link in a series of representations no sooner becomes present to us, than we at once evoke all the rest, often even, as it were, involuntarily. If we were to look for a metaphor for this characteristic quality of our representative faculty (such as that of Plato, who compared it with a soft mass that receives and retains impressions), I think the best would be that of a piece of drapery, which, after having been repeatedly folded in the same folds, at last falls into them, as it were, of its own accord. The body learns by practice to obey the will, and the faculty of representing does precisely the same. A remembrance is not by any means, as the usual view supposes, always the same representation which is, as it were, fetched over and over again from its store-house; a new one, on the contrary, arises each time, only practice makes this especially easy. Thus it comes to pass that pictures of our imagination, which we fancy we have stowed away in our memory, become imperceptibly modified: a thing which we realize when we see some familiar object again after a long time, and find that it no longer completely corresponds to the image we bring with us. This could not be if we retained ready-made representations. It is just for this reason too, that acquired knowledge, if left unexercised, gradually fades from our memory, precisely because it was the result of practice coming from habit and knack; thus most scholars, for instance, forget their Greek, and most artists their Italian on their return from Italy. This is also why we find so much difficulty in recalling to mind a name or a line of poetry formerly familiar to us, when we have ceased to think of it for several years; whereas when once we succeed in remembering it, we have it again at our disposal for some time, because the practice has been renewed. Everyone therefore who knows several languages, will do well to make a point of reading occasionally in each, that he may ensure to himself their possession.

This likewise explains why the surroundings and events of our childhood impress themselves so deeply on our memory; it is because, in childhood we have but few, and those chiefly intuitive, representations: so that we are induced to repeat them constantly for the sake of occupation. People who have little capability for original thought do this all their lives (and moreover not only with intuitive representations, but with conceptions and words also); sometimes therefore they have remarkably good memories, when obtuseness and sluggishness of intellect do not act as impediments. Men of genius, on the contrary, are not always endowed with the best of memories, as, for instance, Rousseau has told us of himself. Perhaps this may be accounted for by their great abundance of new thoughts and combinations, which leaves them no time for frequent repetition. Still, on the whole, genius is seldom found with a very bad memory; because here a greater energy and mobility of the whole thinking faculty makes up for the want of constant practice. Nor must we forget that Mnemosyne was the mother of the Muses. We may accordingly say, that our memory stands under two contending influences, that of the energy of the representative faculty on the one hand, and that of the quantity of representations occupying that faculty on the other. The less energy there is in the faculty, the fewer must be the representations, and conversely. This explains the impaired memory of habitual novel-readers, for it is with them as with men of genius: the multitude of representations following rapidly upon each other, leaves no time or patience for repetition and practice; only, in novels, these representations are not the readers' own, but other people's thoughts and combinations quickly succeeding each other, and the readers themselves are wanting in that which, in genius, counterbalances repetition. The whole thing besides is subject to the corrective, that we all have most memory for that which interests us, and least for that which does not. Great minds therefore are apt to forget in an incredibly short time the petty affairs and trifling occurrences of daily life and the commonplace people with whom they come in contact, whereas they have a wonderful recollection of those things which have importance in themselves and for them.

It is, however, on the whole, easy to understand that we should more readily remember such series of representations as are connected together by the thread of one or more of the above-mentioned species of reasons and consequences, than such as have no connection with one another, but only with our will according to the law of motives; that is to say, those which are arbitrarily grouped. For, in the former, the fact that we know the formal part _à priori_, saves us half the trouble; and this probably gave rise to Plato's doctrine, that all learning is mere remembering.

As far as possible we ought to try and reduce all that we wish to incorporate in our memory to a perceptible image, either directly, or as an example, a mere simile, or an analogue, or indeed in any other way; because intuitive perceptions take a far firmer hold than any abstract thoughts, let alone mere words. This is why we remember things we have ourselves experienced so much better than those of which we read.