given temperature. Now, as ignition must necessarily follow immediately upon this state, and as it has only just taken place, that state cannot always have been there, but must, on the contrary, have only just supervened. This supervening is called a _change_. It is on this account that the law of causality stands in exclusive relation to _changes_ and has to do with them alone. Every effect, at the time it takes place, is a _change_ and, precisely by not having occurred sooner, infallibly indicates some other _change_ by which it has been preceded. That other _change_ takes the name of _cause_, when referred to the following one--of _effect_, when referred to a third necessarily preceding _change_. This is the chain of causality. It is necessarily without a beginning. By it, each supervening state must have resulted from a preceding change: in the case just mentioned, for instance, from the substance being brought into contact with free heat, from which necessarily resulted the heightened temperature; this contact again depended upon a preceding change, for instance the sun's rays falling upon a burning-glass; this again upon the removal of a cloud from before the sun; this upon the wind; the wind upon the unequal density of the atmosphere; this upon other conditions, and so forth _in infinitum_. When a state contains all the requisite conditions for bringing about a new state excepting _one, this one_, when at last it arrives, is, in a sense, rightly called the cause κατ' ἐξοχήν, inasmuch as we here have the final--in this case the decisive--change especially in view; but if we leave out this consideration, no single condition of the causal state has any advantage over the rest with reference to the determination of the causal connection in general, merely because it happens to be the last. Thus the removal of the cloud in the above example, is in so far the cause of the igniting, as it took place later than the direction of the burning-glass towards the object; but this might have taken place after the removal of the cloud and the addition of oxygen might have occurred later still: in this respect therefore it is the accidental order of things that determines which is the cause.
On closer inspection, however, we find that it is _the entire state_ which is the cause of the ensuing one, so that the chronological order in which its single conditions were brought about, is in all essential respects indifferent. With reference to a given case therefore, the last occurring condition of a state may be called the cause κατ' ἐξοχήν, because it completes the measure of the necessary conditions, and its appearance thus becomes the decisive change. For purposes of general consideration, however, it is only the _entire_ state which, by bringing about its successor, can be regarded as the cause. The single requisites which, added together, complete and constitute the cause may be called causal elements (_ursächliche Momente_) or even _conditions_, and into these accordingly the cause may be subdivided. On the other hand, it is quite wrong to call the objects themselves causes, instead of the states: some would, for instance, call the burning-glass in the above example the cause of the ignition; while others, again, would call the cloud the cause; others the sun or the oxygen, and so on arbitrarily and without order. But it is absurd to call an object the cause of another object; first of all, because objects not only contain form and quality, but _Matter_ also, which has neither beginning or end; secondly, because the law of causality refers exclusively to _changes_, _i.e._ to the entrance and exit of states in Time, wherein it regulates that special relation, in reference to which the earlier state is called _cause_, the later _effect_, and the necessary connection between both, the _resulting_ of the one from the other.
I here refer the thoughtful reader to the explanations I have given in my chief work.[60] For it is of the highest importance that our conception of the true and proper meaning of the law of causality and the sphere of its validity should be perfectly clear and definite: before all things, that we should recognize, that this law refers solely and exclusively to _changes_ of material states and to nothing else whatever; consequently, that it ought not to be brought in when _these_ are not in question. The law of causality is the regulator of the _changes_ undergone in Time by objects of our outer _experience_; but these objects are all material. Each change can only be brought about by another having preceded it, which is determined by a rule, and then the new change takes place as being necessarily induced by the preceding one. This necessity is the causal nexus.
_seq._ of the 2nd edition; p. 46 _seq._ of the 3rd edition.
However simple therefore the law of causality is, we nevertheless find it expressed quite differently in all philosophical manuals, from the earliest down to the latest ages: namely, in a broader, more abstract, therefore less definite way. We are, for instance, informed, now, that it is that by which something else comes into being; now, that it is what produces another thing or gives it reality, &c. &c.
Wolf says: _Causa est principium, a quo existentia, sive actualitas, entis alterius dependet_; whereas it is obvious that in causality we have only to do with changes in the form of uncreated, indestructible Matter, and that a springing into existence of what did not previously exist is an impossibility. Want of clearness of thought may, no doubt, in most cases have led to these views of the causal relation; but surely sometimes an _arrière-pensée_ lurks in the background--a theological intention coqueting with the Cosmological Proof, for whose sake it is ready to falsify even transcendental, _à priori_ truths, the mother's milk of human understanding. We find the clearest instance of this in Thomas Brown's book, "On the Relation of Cause and Effect," a work of 460 pages, which, in 1835, had already reached its fourth edition, and has probably since gone through several more, and which, in spite of its wearisome, pedantic, rambling prolixity, does not handle the subject badly. Now this Englishman rightly recognises, that it is invariably with _changes_ that the causal law has to do, and that every effect is accordingly a _change_. Yet, although it can hardly have escaped him, he is unwilling to admit that every cause is likewise a _change_, and that the whole process is therefore nothing but the uninterrupted nexus of _changes_ succeeding one another in Time. On the contrary, he persists in clumsily calling the cause an _object_ or _substance_, which precedes the change, and in tormenting himself throughout his tedious book with this entirely false expression, which spoils all his explanations, notwithstanding his own better knowledge and against his conscience, simply in order that his definition may on no account stand in the way of the Cosmological Proof, which others might hereafter state elsewhere.--But what can a truth be worth which needs devices such as these to prepare its way?
And what have our own worthy, honest German professors of philosophy been doing in behalf of their dearly beloved Cosmological Proof, since Kant dealt it the death-blow in his Critique of Pure Reason?--they, who prize truth above everything. They were, indeed, at their wits' ends, for--as these worthies well know, though they do not say so--_causa prima_ is, just as well as _causa sui_, a _contradictio in adjecto_, albeit the former expression is more generally used than the latter. It is besides usually pronounced with a very serious, not to say solemn, air; nay, many people, especially English Reverends, turn up their eyes in a truly edifying way when they impressively and emphatically mention that _contradictio in adjecto_: 'the first cause.' They know that a first cause is just as inconceivable as the point at which Space ends or the moment when Time first began. For every cause is a _change_, which necessarily obliges us to ask for the preceding change that brought it about, and so on _in infinitum, in infinitum_!
Even a first state of Matter, from which, as it has ceased to be, all following states could have proceeded, is inconceivable. For if this state had in itself been the cause of the following ones, they must likewise have existed from all eternity, and the actual state existing at the present moment could not have only just now come into being.
If, on the other hand, that first state only began to be causal at some given period, something or other must have _changed_ it, for its inactivity to have ceased; but then something must have occurred, some change must have taken place; and this again obliges us to ask for its cause--_i.e._ a change which preceded it; and here we are once more on the causal ladder, up which we are whipped step by step, higher and higher, _in infinitum, in infinitum_! (These gentlemen will surely not have the face to talk to me of Matter itself arising out of nothing! If so, they will find corollaries at their service further on.) The causal law therefore is not so accommodating as to let itself be used like a hired cab, which we dismiss when we have reached our destination; rather does it resemble the broom brought to life by the apprentice-wizard in Göthe's poem,[61] which, when once set in motion, does not leave off running and fetching water until the old master-wizard himself stops it, which he alone has the power to do. These gentlemen, however, have no master-wizards among them. So what did they do, these noble, genuine lovers of truth, ever on the alert, of course, to proclaim the advent of real merit to the world as soon as it shows itself in their profession, who far from wishing to divert attention from the works of those who are really what _they_ only seem to be, by craftily ignoring and meanly keeping them dark, are naturally foremost to acknowledge their worth--aye, surely, as surely as folly loves wisdom above everything? What did they do, I say, to help their old friend, the sorely distressed Cosmological Proof, now at its last gasp? Oh, they hit upon a shrewd device. "Friend," they said, "you are in sorry plight since your fatal encounter with that stubborn old man in Königsberg, and indeed your brethren, the Ontological and Physico-theological Proofs are in no better condition. Never mind, you shall not be abandoned by us (that is what we are paid for, you know); only you must alter your dress and your name--there is no help for it--for if we call you by your right name, everyone will take to his heels. Now _incognito_, on the contrary, we can take you by the arm, and once more lead you into society; only, as we have just said, it must be _incognito_! That is sure to answer! First of all, your argument must henceforth be called _The Absolute_. This has a foreign, dignified, aristocratic ring; and no one knows better than we do all that can be done with Germans by assuming airs of importance. Of course all know what the real meaning is, and pique themselves upon that knowledge. But you yourself must come forward disguised, in the form of an enthymeme. Be sure and leave behind you all those prosyllogisms and premisses, by which you used to drag us wearily up the long climax, for everyone knows how utterly useless they are. Come forward with a bold face and a self-sufficient, supercilious air, like a man of few words, and at one bound you will reach the goal. Exclaim (and we will chime in), '_The Absolute_, confound it! _that_ must _exist_, or there would be nothing at all!' Here, strike the table with your fist. Whence does the Absolute come? 'What a silly question! Did not I tell you it was the Absolute?'--That will do, forsooth! That will do! Germans are accustomed to content themselves with words instead of thoughts. Do we not train them to it from their cradle? Only look at Hegelianism! What is it but empty, hollow, nauseous twaddle! Yet how brilliant a career was that of this philosophical time-server! A few mercenary individuals had only to strike up a laudation of this stuff, and they at once found an echo to their voices in the empty hollow of a thousand numskulls--an echo which still continues to resound, and to extend--and behold! an ordinary intellect, a common impostor soon became a sublime thinker. Take heart, therefore! Besides, our friend and patron, we will also second you in other ways, for how, indeed, are we to get a living without you? So that carping old faultfinder, Kant, has been criticizing Reason, and clipping her wings, has he?
Well, then, we will invent a _new_ sort of Reason, such as has never been heard of--a Reason that does not think, but which has direct intuition--a Reason which sees Ideas (a high-flown word, made to mystify), sees them bodily; or which apprehends directly that which you and others seek to prove; or, again, a Reason which has forebodings of all this--this last for the benefit of those who do not care to make large concessions, but also are satisfied with very little. Let us thus pass off early inculcated, popular conceptions for direct revelations of this new kind of Reason, _i.e._ for inspirations from above. As for that old-fashioned Reason, which criticism has criticized away, let us degrade it, call it Understanding, and send it about its business.
Well, and what is to become of real, true Understanding?--What in the world have we to do with real, true Understanding?--You smile incredulously; but we know our listeners, and the _harum_, _horum_ we see on the students' benches before us. Bacon of Verulam already in his time said: 'Young men learn to believe at Universities.' Of this they can learn as much as they wish from us; we have a good stock of articles of faith on hand. Should any misgivings assail you, remember that we are in Germany, where what would have been impossible in any other country, has been found possible: where a dull-witted, ignorant, pseudo-philosopher, whose ineffably hollow verbiage disorganizes peoples' brains completely and permanently, a scribbler of nonsense--I am speaking of our dearly beloved Hegel--has not only been actually proclaimed a profound thinker with impunity, and even without incurring ridicule, but is readily accepted as such: yes, indeed, for this fiction has found credence for the last thirty years, and is believed to this day!--Once therefore we have this Absolute with your help, we are quite safe, in spite of Kant and his Critique.--We may then philosophise in a lofty tone, making the Universe proceed from _the Absolute_ by means of the most heterogeneous deductions, one more tiresome than the other--this, by the way, being their only point of resemblance. We can call the world the Finite, and the Absolute the Infinite--thus giving an agreeable variety to our nonsense--and talk of nothing but God, explaining how, why, wherefore, by what voluntary or involuntary process he created or brought forth the world, showing whether he be within or without it, and so forth, as if Philosophy were Theology, and as if it sought for enlightenment concerning God, not concerning the Universe!"
[61] Göthe, "Der Zauberlehrling."
The Cosmological Proof, with which we here have to do, and to which the above apostrophe is addressed, consists thus, properly speaking, in the assertion, that the principle of the sufficient reason of _becoming_, or the law of causality, necessarily leads to a thought which destroys it and declares it to be null and void. For the _causa prima_ (_absolutum_) can only be reached by proceeding upwards from consequence to reason, through a series prolonged _ad libitum_; but it is impossible to stop short at the _causa prima_ without at once annulling the principle of sufficient reason.
Having thus briefly and clearly shown the nullity of the Cosmological Proof, as I had in my second chapter already shown the nullity of the Ontological Proof, the sympathizing reader may perhaps expect me to do the same with respect to the Physico-theological Proof, which is a great deal more plausible. As, however, this belongs by its nature to a different department of philosophy, it would be quite out of place here. I therefore refer him to Kant's Critique of Pure Reason, as well as to his Critique of the Faculty of Judgment, where he treats this subject _ex professo_; I likewise refer him, as a complement to Kant's purely negative procedure, to my own positive one in "The Will in Nature,"[62] a work which, though small in bulk, is rich and weighty in content. As for the indifferent reader, he is free to let this and indeed all my writings pass down unread to his descendants. It matters not to me; for I am here, not for one generation only, but for many.
[62] The translation of which follows the Fourfold Root in the present volume.
Now, as the law of causality is known to us _à priori_, and is therefore a transcendental law, applicable to every possible experience and consequently without exception, as will be shown in § 21; as moreover it decides, that upon a given, definite, relatively first state, a second equally definite one inevitably ensues by rule, _i.e._, always; the relation between cause and effect is a necessary one, so that the causal law authorizes us to form hypothetical judgments, and thereby shows itself to be a form of the principle of sufficient reason, upon which principle all judgments must be founded and, as will be shown further on, all _necessity_ is based.
This form of our principle I call the _principle of the sufficient reason of becoming_, because its application invariably pre-supposes a change, the entering upon a new state: consequently a becoming. One of its essential characteristics is this: that the cause always precedes the effect in Time (compare § 47), and this alone gives us the original criterion by which to distinguish which is cause and which effect, of two states linked together by the causal nexus. Conversely, in some cases, the causal nexus is known to us through former experience; but the rapidity with which the different states follow upon each other is so great, that the order in which this happens escapes our perception.
We then conclude with complete certitude from causality to succession: thus, for instance, we infer that the igniting of gunpowder precedes its explosion.[63] [63] Here I refer my readers to "Die Welt als Wills und Vorstellung," vol. ii. chap. 4, p. 41 of the 2nd edition, and p. 45 of the 3rd edition.
From this essential connection between causality and succession it follows, that the conception of reciprocity, strictly speaking, has no meaning; for it presumes the effect to be again the cause of its cause: that is, that what follows is at the same time what precedes.
In a "Critique of Kantian Philosophy," which I have added to my chief work, and to which I refer my readers,[64] I have shown at length that this favourite conception is inadmissible. It may be remarked, that authors usually have recourse to it just when their insight is becoming less clear, and this accounts for the frequency of its use. Nay, it is precisely when a writer comes to the end of his conceptions, that the word '_reciprocity_' presents itself more readily than any other; it may, in fact, be looked upon as a kind of alarm-gun, denoting that the author has got out of his depth. It is also worthy of remark, that the word _Wechselwirkung_, literally reciprocal action--or, as we have preferred translating it, _reciprocity_--is only found in the German language, and that there is no precise equivalent for it in daily use in any other tongue.
and pp. 544-549 of the 3rd edition.
From the law of causality spring two corollaries which, in virtue of this origin, are accredited as cognitions _à priori_, therefore as unquestionable and without exception. They are, _the law of inertia_ and that _of permanence of substance_. The first of these laws avers, that every state in which a body can possibly be--consequently that of repose as well as that of any kind of movement--must last for ever without change, diminution, or augmentation, unless some cause supervenes to alter or annul it. But the other law, by which the eternity of Matter is affirmed, results from the fact, that the law of causality is exclusively applicable to _states_ of bodies, such as repose, movement, form, and quality, since it presides over their temporal passing in or out of being; but that it is by no means applicable to the existence of _that which endures_ these states, and is called _Substance_, in order precisely to express its exemption from all arising and perishing. '_Substance is permanent_' means, that it can neither pass into, nor out of being: so that its quantity existing in the universe can neither be increased nor diminished. That we know this _à priori_, is proved by the consciousness of unassailable certainty with which, when we see a body disappear--whether it be by conjuring, by minute subdivision, by combustion, volatilisation, or indeed any process whatever--we all nevertheless firmly assume that its substance, _i.e._ its _matter_, must still exist somewhere or other in undiminished quantity, whatever may have become of its _form_; likewise, when we perceive a body suddenly in a place, where it was not before, that it must have been brought there or formed by some combination of invisible particles--for instance, by precipitation--but that it, _i.e._ its substance, cannot have then started into existence; for this implies a total impossibility and is utterly inconceivable. The certainty with which we assume this beforehand (_à priori_), proceeds from the fact, that our Understanding possesses absolutely no form under which to conceive the beginning and end of Matter. For, as before said, the law of causality--the only form in which we are able to conceive changes at all--is solely applicable to _states_ of bodies, and never under any circumstances to the existence of _that which undergoes_ all changes: _Matter_.
This is why I place the principle of the permanence of Matter among the corollaries of the causal law. Moreover, we cannot have acquired _à posteriori_ the conviction that substance is permanent, partly because it cannot, in most instances, be empirically established; partly also, because every empirical knowledge obtained exclusively by means of induction, has only approximate, consequently precarious, never unconditioned, certainty. The firmness of our persuasion as to this principle is therefore of a different kind and nature from our security of conviction with regard to the accuracy of any _empirically_ discovered law of Nature, since it has an entirely different, perfectly unshakable, never vacillating firmness. The reason of this is, that the principle expresses a _transcendental_ knowledge, _i.e._ one which determines and fixes, _prior_ to all experience, what is in any way possible within the whole range of experience; but, precisely by this, it reduces the world of experience to a mere cerebral phenomenon. Even the most universal among the non-transcendental laws of Nature and the one least liable to exception--the law of gravitation--is of empirical origin, consequently without guarantee as to its absolute universality; wherefore it is still from time to time called in question, and doubts occasionally arise as to its validity beyond our solar system; and astronomers carefully call attention to any indications corroborative of its doubtfulness with which they may happen to meet, thereby showing that they regard it as merely empirical. The question may of course be raised, whether gravitation takes effect between bodies which are separated by an _absolute_ vacuum, or whether its action within a solar system may not be mediated by some sort of ether, and may not cease altogether between fixed stars; but these questions only admit of an empirical solution, and this proves that here we have not to do with a knowledge _à priori_. If, on the other hand, we admit with Kant and Laplace the hypothesis, as the most probable one, that each solar system has developed out of an original _nebula_ by a gradual process of condensation, we still cannot for a moment conceive the possibility of that original substance having sprung into being out of _nothing_: we are forced to assume the anterior existence of its particles somewhere or other, as well as their having been brought together somehow or other, precisely because of the transcendental nature of the principle of the permanence of Substance. In my Critique of Kantian Philosophy,[65] I have shown at length, that _Substance_ is but another word for _Matter_, the conception of substance not being realisable excepting in _Matter_, and therefore deriving its origin from _Matter_, and I have also specially pointed out how that conception was formed solely to serve a surreptitious purpose. Like many other equally certain truths, this eternity of Matter (called the permanence of substance) is forbidden fruit for professors of philosophy; so they slip past it with a bashful, sidelong glance.
edition.
By the endless chain of causes and effects which directs all _changes_ but never extends beyond them, two existing things remain untouched, precisely because of the limited range of its action: on the one hand, _Matter_, as we have just shown; on the other hand, the primary _forces of Nature_. The first (matter) remains uninfluenced by the causal nexus, because it is _that which undergoes_ all changes, or _on which_ they take place; the second (the primary forces), because it is they alone _by which_ changes or effects become possible; for they alone give causality to causes. _i.e._ the faculty of operating, which the causes therefore hold as mere vassals a fief. Cause and effect are _changes_ connected together to necessary succession in Time; whereas the forces of Nature by means of which all causes operate, are exempt from all change; in this sense therefore they are outside Time, but precisely on that account they are always and everywhere in reserve, omnipresent and inexhaustible, ever ready to manifest themselves, as soon as an opportunity presents itself in the thread of causality.
A _cause_, like its _effect_, is invariably something individual, a single change; whereas a force of Nature is something universal, unchangeable, present at all times and in all places. The attraction of a thread by amber, for instance, at the present moment, is an effect; its cause is the preceding friction and actual contact of the amber with the thread; and the _force of Nature_ which acts in, and presides over, the process, is Electricity. The explanation of this matter is to be found in my chief work,[66] and there I have shown in a long chain of causes and effects how the most heterogeneous natural forces successively come into play in them. By this explanation the difference between transitory phenomena and permanent forms of operation, becomes exceedingly clear; and as, moreover, a whole section (§ 26) is devoted to the question, it will be sufficient here to give a brief sketch of it. The _rule_, by which a force of Nature manifests itself in the chain of causes and effects--consequently the link which connects it with them--is the law of Nature. But the confusion between forces of Nature and causes is as frequent as it is detrimental to clearness of thought. It seems indeed as though no one had accurately defined the difference between these conceptions before me, however great may have been the urgency for such a distinction. Not only are forces of Nature turned into causes by such expressions as, 'Electricity, Gravity, &c., are the _cause_ of so-and-so,' but they are even often turned into effects by those who search for a cause for Electricity, Gravity, &c.
&c., which is absurd. Diminishing the number of the forces of Nature, however, by reducing one to another, as for instance Magnetism is in our days reduced to Electricity, is a totally different thing.
Every _true_, consequently really primary force of Nature--and every fundamental chemical property belongs to these forces--is essentially a _qualitas occulta_, _i.e._ it does not admit of physical, but only of metaphysical explanation: in other words, of an explanation which transcends the world of phenomena. No one has carried this confusion, or rather identification, of causes with forces of Nature further than Maine de Biran in his "Nouvelles considérations des rapports du physique au moral," for it is essential to his philosophy. It is besides remarkable, that when he speaks of causes, he rarely uses the word _cause_ alone, but almost always speaks of _cause ou force_, just as we have seen Spinoza above (§ 8) write _ratio sive causa_ no less than eight times in the same page. Both writers are evidently conscious that they are identifying two disparates, in order to be able to make use of the one or the other, according to circumstances; for this end they are obliged to keep the identification constantly before their readers' mind.-- and p. 160 of the 3rd edition.
Now Causality, as the director of each and every change, presents itself in Nature under _three_ distinct forms: as _causes_ in the strictest acceptation of the word, as _stimuli_, and as _motives_.
It is just upon this difference that the real, essential distinction between inorganic bodies, plants, and animals is based, and not upon external, anatomical, let alone chemical, distinctions.
A _cause_, in its narrowest sense, is that upon which changes in the _inorganic_ kingdom alone ensue: those changes, that is to say, which form the theme of Mechanics, Physics, and Chemistry. Newton's third fundamental law, "Action and reaction are equal to one another," applies exclusively to this cause, and enunciates, that the state which precedes (the cause) undergoes a change equivalent to that produced by it (the effect). In this form of causality alone, moreover, does the degree of the effect always exactly correspond to the degree of the cause, so as to enable us accurately to calculate the one by means of the other.
The second form of causality is the _stimulus_; it reigns over _organic_ life, as such, _i.e._ over plant life and the vegetative, that is, the unconscious, part of animal life. This second form is characterized by the absence of the distinctive signs of the first.
In it accordingly action and reaction are not equal, nor does the intensity of the effect by any means correspond throughout all its degrees to the intensity of the cause; in fact, the opposite effect may even be produced by intensifying the cause.
The third form of causality is the _motive_. Under this form causality rules animal life proper: that is, the exterior, consciously performed actions of all animals. The medium for motives is _knowledge_: an intellect is accordingly needed for susceptibility to motives. The true characteristic of the animal is therefore the faculty of knowing, of representing (_Das Vorstellen_). Animals, as such, always move towards some aim and end, which therefore must have been _recognised_ by them: that is to say, it must have presented itself to them as something different from themselves, yet of which they are conscious. Therefore the proper definition of the animal would be: 'That which knows;' for no other definition quite hits the mark or can even perhaps stand the test of investigation. Movement induced by motives is necessarily wanting where there is no cognitive faculty, and movement by stimuli alone remains, _i.e._ plant life. Irritability and sensibility are therefore inseparable. Still motives evidently act in a different way from stimuli; for the action of the former may be very brief, nay, need only be momentary; since their efficacy, unlike that of stimuli, stands in no relation whatever to the duration of that action, to the proximity of the object, &c. &c. A motive needs but to be perceived therefore, to take effect; whereas stimuli always require outward, often even inward, contact and invariably a certain length of time.
This short sketch of the three forms of causality will suffice here.
They are more fully described in my Prize-essay on Free Will.[67] One thing, however, still remains to be urged. The difference between cause, stimulus, and motive, is obviously only a consequence of the various degrees of _receptivity_ of beings; the greater their receptivity, the feebler may be the nature of the influence: a stone needs an impact, while man obeys a look. Nevertheless, both are moved by a sufficient cause, therefore with the same necessity. For '_motivation_'[68] is only causality passing through knowledge; the intellect is the medium of the motives, because it is the highest degree of receptivity. By this, however, the law of causality loses nothing whatever of its rigour and certainty; for motives are causes and operate with the same necessity which all causes bring with them.
This necessity is easy to perceive in animals because of the greater simplicity of their intellect, which is limited to the perception of what is present. Man's intellect is double: for not only has he intuitive, but abstract, knowledge, which last is not limited to what is present. Man possesses Reason; he therefore has a power of elective decision with clear consciousness: that is, he is able to weigh against one another motives which exclude each other, as such; in other terms, he can let them try their strength on his will. The most powerful motive then decides him, and his actions ensue with just the same necessity as the rolling of a ball after it has been struck. Freedom of Will[69] means (not professorial twaddle but) "_that a given human being, in a given situation, can act in two different ways_." But the utter absurdity of this assertion is a truth as certain and as clearly proved, as any truth can be which passes the limits of pure mathematics. In my Essay on Free Will, to which the Norwegian Society awarded the prize, this truth is demonstrated more clearly, methodically, and thoroughly than has been done before by anyone else, and this moreover with special reference to those facts of our consciousness by which ignorant people imagine that absurdity to be confirmed. In all that is essential however, Hobbes, Spinoza, Priestley, Voltaire, and even Kant[70] already taught the same doctrine. Our professional philosophers, of course, do not let this interfere with their holding forth on Free Will, as if it were an understood thing which had never been questioned. But what do these