admit the idea of it but under the condition of admitting, at the same time, the idea of space; otherwise you would admit a body which was nowhere, which was in no place, and such a body is inconceivable.' pp. 46, 47.

Unquestionably, then, when we regard the question of the origin of ideas under the logical point of view, this solution, which is incontestible, overwhelms the system of Locke. Now it is at this point that the Ideal school has in general taken up the question of the origin of ideas. By the origin of ideas, they commonly understand the logical filiation. of ideas. Hence they have said, with their last and most illustrious interpreter, that so far is the idea of body from being the foundation [Kant should have added, the logical foundation] of the idea of space, that it is the idea of space which is the foundation (the logical condition) of the idea of body. The idea of body is given us by the touch and the sight, that is by experience of the senses. On the contrary, the idea of space is given to us, on occasion of the idea of body, by the understanding, the mind, the reason; in fine, by a faculty other than sensation. Hence the Kantean formula: the pure rational idea of space comes so little from experience, that it is the condition of all experience. This bold formula is incontestibly true in all its strictness, when taken in a certain reference, in reference to the logical order of human intellections.

But this is not the sole order of intellection; and the logical relation does not comprise all the relations which ideas mutually sustain. There is still another, that of anterior, or posterior, the order of the relative development of ideas in time, their chronological order. And the question of the origin of ideas may be regarded under this point of view. Now the idea of space, we have just seen, is clearly the logical condition of all sensible experience. Is it also the chronological condition of all experience, and of the idea of body? I believe no such thing. If we take ideas in the order in which they actually evolve themselves in the intelligence, if we investigate only their history and successive appearance, it is not true that the idea of space is antecedent to the idea of body. Indeed it is so little true, that the idea of space chronologically supposes the idea of body, that, in fact, if you had not the idea of body, you would never have the idea of space. Take away sensation, take away the sight and touch, and you have no longer any idea of body, and consequently none of space. Space is the place of bodies; he who has no idea of a body, will never have the idea of space which contains it. Rationally, logically, if you had not the idea of space, you could not have the idea of a body; but the converse is true chronologically, and in fact, the idea of space comes up only along with the idea of body and as you have not the idea of a body without immediately having the idea of space, it follows that these two ideas are contempo

raneous.

Undoubtedly, and I cannot repeat it too much, for it is the knot of the difficulty, the secret of the problem, undoubtedly as soon as the idea of body is given, that instant the idea of space is evolved; but if this

condition be not fulfilled, the idea of space would never enter the human understanding.' pp. 48-50.

From the consideration of space, M. Cousin proceeds, in his own original and felicitous manner, to treat of time :—

There is no one, who, if he has directly before his eyes, or represents to his imagination, any event whatever, does not conceive that it had passed, or is passing, in a certain time. I ask whether it is possible to suppose an event, which you are not compelled to conceive as taking place some hour, some day, some week, some year, some century? There is not an event, real or possible, which escapes the necessity of this conception of a time in which it must have taken place. You can even suppose the abolition, the non-existence of every event; but you cannot suppose this of time. Standing before a time-piece, you may very easily make the supposition, that from one hour to another, no event has taken place; you are however none the less convinced that time has passed away, even when no event has marked its course. The idea of time, then, like the idea of space, is marked with the characteristic of necessity.' p. 58.

Now it is with respect to the origin of the idea of time as with the origin of the idea of space. Here again we are to distinguish the order of the acquisition of our ideas from their logical order. In the logical order of ideas, the idea of any succession of events pre-supposes that of time. There could not be any succession, but upon condition of a continuous duration, to the different points of which the several members of the succession may be attached. Take away the continuity of time, and you take away the possibility of the succession of events; just as the continuity of space being taken away, the possibility of the juxta-position and co-existence of bodies is destroyed.

But in the chronological order, on the contrary, it is the idea of a succession of events, which precedes the idea of time as including them.

Time is the place of events, just as space is the place of bodies; whoever had no idea of any event, [no perception of any succession,] would have no idea of time. If, then, the logical condition of the idea of succession, lies in the idea of time, the chronological condition of the idea of time, is the idea of succession.

To this result, then, we are come: the idea of succession is the occasion, the chronological antecedent of the necessary conception of time. Now every idea of succession is undeniably an acquisition of experience. It remains to ascertain of what experience. Is it inward, or outward experience? The first idea of succession,-is it given in the spectacle of outward events, or in the consciousness of the events that pass within us?' pp. 59, 60.

Cousin concurs with Locke, in ascribing our first ideas of time, to the succession of thoughts in our own minds :

'The merit of Locke consists in having proved that the idea of time, VOL. VII.

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of duration, of eternity, is suggested to us by the idea of some succession of events; and that this succession is taken, not from the external world, but from the world of consciousness.' pp. 62, 63.

But our author here takes occasion to correct an error, which had long since been observed in Locke; that of confounding, or seeming to confound, the succession of our ideas with time:

'Locke saw that the idea of time is given in succession, and that the first succession for us, is, necessarily, the succession of our own ideas. Thus far Locke deserves only praise, for he gives the succession of our ideas merely as the condition of the acquisition of the idea of time; but the condition of a thing is easily taken for the thing itself, and Locke, after having taken the idea of body, the mere condition [chronological antecedent, and occasion] of the idea of space, for the idea of space itself, here also takes the condition of the idea of time, for the idea itself. He confounds succession with time. He not only says that the succession of our ideas, is the condition of the conception of time; but he says that time is nothing else than the succession of our ideas.' p. 63.

In truth, where do the elements of any succession follow each other, if not in some duration? Or how could succession,-the distance, so to say, between ideas,-take place, unless in the space proper to ideas and to minds, that is, in time?

Moreover, see to what result the theory of Locke leads. If succession is no longer merely the measure of time, but time itself; if the succession of ideas is no longer the condition of the conception of time, but the conception itself, it follows that time is nothing else than the fact of there being a succession of our ideas. The succession of our ideas is more or less rapid; and time then is more or less short, not in appearance only, but in reality. In absolute sleep, in lethargy, all succession of ideas ceases; and then we have no duration, and not only have we no duration, but there is no duration for any thing; for not only our time, but time in itself, is nothing but the succession of our ideas. Ideas exist but under the eye of consciousness; but there is no consciousness in lethargy, in total sleep, consequently there was no time. The time-piece vainly moved on, the time-piece was wrong; and the sun, like the time-piece, should have stopped.

These are the results, very extravagant indeed, and yet the necessary results of confounding the idea of succession with that of time; and the confusion itself is necessary in the general system of Locke, which deduces all our ideas from sensation and reflection. Sensation had, according to him, given space; reflection gives time; but reflection, that is, consciousness with memory, pertains only to the succession of our ideas, of our voluntary acts; a succession finite and contingent, and not time, necessary and unlimited, in which this succession takes place. Experience, whether external or internal, gives us only the measure of time, and not time itself. Now Locke, by his assumed theory, was forbidden any source of knowledge but sensation and reflection. It was necessary of course to make time explicable by the one or the other.

He saw very clearly that it was not explicable by sensation, and it could not be by reflection, except upon condition of reducing it to the measure of time, that is to say, to succession. Locke has thus, it is true, destroyed time; but he has saved his system.' pp. 64, 65.

This criticism appears to be just, if applied to the theory of Locke, when stretched so far as to affirm, that all the materials of our knowledge are objects of perception or of consciousness. We are not strictly conscious of time. Still it is true, even according to Cousin's explanation, that we obtain the idea of duration by means of consciousness. He says, "The chronological condition of the idea of time, is the idea of succession; and the first succession is given us in ourselves, in consciousness."

The theory of Locke, in the opinion of Cousin, is insufficient to account for our idea of substance, or even of our own existence. "No substance," he says, "material or spiritual, is in itself a proper object of sense or of consciousness." Referring to the declaration of Locke, that "all our ideas of the several sorts of substances, are nothing but collections of simple ideas, with the supposition of something to which they belong;" he proceeds:—

'Admitting none but ideas explicable by sensation or reflection, and being unable to explain the idea of substance either by the one or the other, he was necessarily led to deny it, to resolve it into a combination of the simple ideas of qualities, which are easily attained by sensation or reflection, and which his system admits and explains. Hence the systematic identification of substance and qualities, of being and phenomena, that is to say, the destruction of being, and consequently of beings. Nothing exists in itself, neither God, nor the world, neither you nor myself. p. 78.

Now, although according to the limited definition which modern logicians have chosen to give to the term consciousness, we are not strictly conscious of our own existence; yet the idea of our own existence, is immediately and necessarily implied in every act of consciousness. A man is not merely conscious of thoughts and feelings, of thoughts and feelings which have proceeded from nothing, which belong to no being. He is conscious, that they are his own thoughts and feelings; that they are acts, or states of his own mind. The thinking being, the self, is as much implied in every act of consciousness, as the thought itself: only, the one is called the direct object of consciousness, while the other is not. It is still true, that we obtain the idea of our own existence, by means of consciousness. Mr. Locke says expressly, that "we are conscious to ourselves of our own being;" evidently showing, that he does not limit the term to what is called, at the present day, the direct object of consciousness; but includes what is necessarily implied in this faculty. So, also, as every notice of a

collection of qualities, implies "a supposition of something to which they belong" we obtain our ideas of material substances, by means of the senses. This is admitted, even by Cousin:

It is indubitable that we know nothing of mind but what its operations teach us concerning it, and nothing of matter but what its qualities teach us of it; just as we have already granted that we know nothing of time save that which succession teaches us of it, nor of space, save that which body teaches, nor of the infinite, save that which the finite teaches, nor of self, save that which consciousness teaches.

But because we do not know any thing of a thing except what another thing teaches us concerning it, it does not follow that the former thing is the latter. Because it is only by the aggregate of its qualities that substance manifests itself, it does not follow that substance is nothing but an aggregate of those qualities.' pp. 76, 77.

Cousin is very explicit, in stating the fundamental law of belief respecting causation; that every change necessarily implies a

cause:

Not only is there in the human mind the idea of cause; not only do we believe ourselves to be the causes of our own acts, and that certain bodies are often the cause of the movement of other bodies; but we judge in a general manner that no phenomenon can begin to exist, whether in space or in time, without having a cause. There is here something more than an idea, there is a principle; and the principle is as incontrovertible as the idea. Imagine a movement, any change whatever, and the moment you conceive of this change, this movement, you cannot help supposing that it was made in virtue of some cause.' p. 85.

This principle is real, certain, undeniable. What now are its attributes? First, then, it is universal. Is there a human being, a savage, a child, an idiot even, provided he is not entirely one, who, in the case of a phenomenon beginning to exist, does not instantly suppose a cause of it?' p. 86.

Still more not only do we thus decide in all cases, naturally and in the instinctive exercise of our understanding; but to decide otherwise is impossible; a phenomenon being given, endeavor to suppose there is no cause of it. You cannot. The principle, then, is not only universal; it is also necessary.' p. 87.

Make the attempt to call this relation in question. You cannot; no human intelligence can succeed in the attempt. Whence it follows, that this truth is an universal and necessary truth. Reason, then, is subjected to this truth. It is under an impossibility of not supposing a cause, whenever the senses or the consciousness reveal any motion, any phenomenon. Now this impossibility, to which reason is subjected, of not supposing a cause for every phenomenon revealed in sense and consciousness, is what we call the principle of causality.' p. 101.