第 27 页

in a certain relation of time to other (although undetermined)

perceptions, we cannot then say a priori, what and how great (in

quantity) the other perception necessarily connected with the former

is, but only how it is connected, quoad its existence, in this given

modus of time. Analogies in philosophy mean something very different

from that which they represent in mathematics. In the latter they

are formulae, which enounce the equality of two relations of quantity,

and are always constitutive, so that if two terms of the proportion

are given, the third is also given, that is, can be constructed by the

aid of these formulae. But in philosophy, analogy is not the

equality of two quantitative but of two qualitative relations. In this

case, from three given terms, I can give a priori and cognize the

relation to a fourth member, but not this fourth term itself, although

I certainly possess a rule to guide me in the search for this fourth

term in experience, and a mark to assist me in discovering it. An

analogy of experience is therefore only a rule according to which

unity of experience must arise out of perceptions in respect to

objects (phenomena) not as a constitutive, but merely as a

regulative principle. The same holds good also of the postulates of

empirical thought in general, which relate to the synthesis of mere

intuition (which concerns the form of phenomena), the synthesis of

perception (which concerns the matter of phenomena), and the synthesis

of experience (which concerns the relation of these perceptions).

For they are only regulative principles, and clearly distinguishable

from the mathematical, which are constitutive, not indeed in regard to

the certainty which both possess a priori, but in the mode of evidence

thereof, consequently also in the manner of demonstration.

But what has been observed of all synthetical propositions, and must

be particularly remarked in this place, is this, that these

analogies possess significance and validity, not as principles of

the transcendental, but only as principles of the empirical use of the

understanding, and their truth can therefore be proved only as such,

and that consequently the phenomena must not be subjoined directly

under the categories, but only under their schemata. For if the

objects to which those principles must be applied were things in

themselves, it would be quite impossible to cognize aught concerning

them synthetically a priori. But they are nothing but phenomena; a

complete knowledge of which- a knowledge to which all principles a

priori must at last relate- is the only possible experience. It

follows that these principles can have nothing else for their aim than

the conditions of the empirical cognition in the unity of synthesis of

phenomena. But this synthesis is cogitated only in the schema of the

pure conception of the understanding, of whose unity, as that of a

synthesis in general, the category contains the function

unrestricted by any sensuous condition. These principles will

therefore authorize us to connect phenomena according to an analogy,

with the logical and universal unity of conceptions, and

consequently to employ the categories in the principles themselves;

but in the application of them to experience, we shall use only

their schemata, as the key to their proper application, instead of the

categories, or rather the latter as restricting conditions, under

the title of "formulae" of the former.

A. FIRST ANALOGY.

Principle of the Permanence of Substance.

In all changes of phenomena, substance is permanent, and the

quantum thereof in nature is neither increased nor diminished.

PROOF.

All phenomena exist in time, wherein alone as substratum, that is,

as the permanent form of the internal intuition, coexistence and

succession can be represented. Consequently time, in which all changes

of phenomena must be cogitated, remains and changes not, because it is

that in which succession and coexistence can be represented only as

determinations thereof. Now, time in itself cannot be an object of

perception. It follows that in objects of perception, that is, in

phenomena, there must be found a substratum which represents time in

general, and in which all change or coexistence can be perceived by

means of the relation of phenomena to it. But the substratum of all

reality, that is, of all that pertains to the existence of things,

is substance; all that pertains to existence can be cogitated only

as a determination of substance. Consequently, the permanent, in

relation to which alone can all relations of time in phenomena be

determined, is substance in the world of phenomena, that is, the

real in phenomena, that which, as the substratum of all change,

remains ever the same. Accordingly, as this cannot change in

existence, its quantity in nature can neither be increased nor

diminished.

Our apprehension of the manifold in a phenomenon is always

successive, is Consequently always changing. By it alone we could,

therefore, never determine whether this manifold, as an object of

experience, is coexistent or successive, unless it had for a

foundation something fixed and permanent, of the existence of which

all succession and coexistence are nothing but so many modes (modi

of time). Only in the permanent, then, are relations of time

possible (for simultaneity and succession are the only relations in

time); that is to say, the permanent is the substratum of our

empirical representation of time itself, in which alone all

determination of time is possible. Permanence is, in fact, just

another expression for time, as the abiding correlate of all existence

of phenomena, and of all change, and of all coexistence. For change

does not affect time itself, but only the phenomena in time (just as

coexistence cannot be regarded as a modus of time itself, seeing

that in time no parts are coexistent, but all successive). If we

were to attribute succession to time itself, we should be obliged to

cogitate another time, in which this succession would be possible.

It is only by means of the permanent that existence in different parts

of the successive series of time receives a quantity, which we entitle

duration. For in mere succession, existence is perpetually vanishing

and recommencing, and therefore never has even the least quantity.

Without the permanent, then, no relation in time is possible. Now,

time in itself is not an object of perception; consequently the

permanent in phenomena must be regarded as the substratum of all

determination of time, and consequently also as the condition of the

possibility of all synthetical unity of perceptions, that is, of

experience; and all existence and all change in time can only be

regarded as a mode in the existence of that which abides unchangeably.

Therefore, in all phenomena, the permanent is the object in itself,

that is, the substance (phenomenon); but all that changes or can

change belongs only to the mode of the existence of this substance

or substances, consequently to its determinations.

I find that in all ages not only the philosopher, but even the

common understanding, has preposited this permanence as a substratum

of all change in phenomena; indeed, I am compelled to believe that

they will always accept this as an indubitable fact. Only the

philosopher expresses himself in a more precise and definite manner,

when he says: "In all changes in the world, the substance remains, and

the accidents alone are changeable." But of this decidedly synthetical

proposition, I nowhere meet with even an attempt at proof; nay, it

very rarely has the good fortune to stand, as it deserves to do, at

the head of the pure and entirely a priori laws of nature. In truth,

the statement that substance is permanent, is tautological. For this

very permanence is the ground on which we apply the category of

substance to the phenomenon; and we should have been obliged to

prove that in all phenomena there is something permanent, of the

existence of which the changeable is nothing but a determination.

But because a proof of this nature cannot be dogmatical, that is,

cannot be drawn from conceptions, inasmuch as it concerns a

synthetical proposition a priori, and as philosophers never

reflected that such propositions are valid only in relation to

possible experience, and therefore cannot be proved except by means of

a deduction of the possibility of experience, it is no wonder that

while it has served as the foundation of all experience (for we feel

the need of it in empirical cognition), it has never been supported by

proof.

A philosopher was asked: "What is the weight of smoke?" He answered:

"Subtract from the weight of the burnt wood the weight of the

remaining ashes, and you will have the weight of the smoke." Thus he

presumed it to be incontrovertible that even in fire the matter

(substance) does not perish, but that only the form of it undergoes

a change. In like manner was the saying: "From nothing comes nothing,"

only another inference from the principle or permanence, or rather

of the ever-abiding existence of the true subject in phenomena. For if

that in the phenomenon which we call substance is to be the proper

substratum of all determination of time, it follows that all existence

in past as well as in future time, must be determinable by means of it

alone. Hence we are entitled to apply the term substance to a

phenomenon, only because we suppose its existence in all time, a

notion which the word permanence does not fully express, as it seems

rather to be referable to future time. However, the internal necessity

perpetually to be, is inseparably connected with the necessity

always to have been, and so the expression may stand as it is.

"Gigni de nihilo nihil; in nihilum nil posse reverti,"* are two

propositions which the ancients never parted, and which people

nowadays sometimes mistakenly disjoin, because they imagine that the

propositions apply to objects as things in themselves, and that the

former might be inimical to the dependence (even in respect of its

substance also) of the world upon a supreme cause. But this

apprehension is entirely needless, for the question in this case is

only of phenomena in the sphere of experience, the unity of which

never could be possible, if we admitted the possibility that new

things (in respect of their substance) should arise. For in that case,

we should lose altogether that which alone can represent the unity

of time, to wit, the identity of the substratum, as that through which

alone all change possesses complete and thorough unity. This

permanence is, however, nothing but the manner in which we represent

to ourselves the existence of things in the phenomenal world.

*[Persius, Satirae, iii.83-84. "Nothing can be produced from

nothing; nothing can be returned into nothing."]

The determinations of a substance, which are only particular modes

of its existence, are called accidents. They are always real,

because they concern the existence of substance (negations are only

determinations, which express the non-existence of something in the

substance). Now, if to this real in the substance we ascribe a

particular existence (for example, to motion as an accident of

matter), this existence is called inherence, in contradistinction to

the existence of substance, which we call subsistence. But hence arise

many misconceptions, and it would be a more accurate and just mode

of expression to designate the accident only as the mode in which

the existence of a substance is positively determined. Meanwhile, by

reason of the conditions of the logical exercise of our understanding,

it is impossible to avoid separating, as it were, that which in the

existence of a substance is subject to change, whilst the substance

remains, and regarding it in relation to that which is properly

permanent and radical. On this account, this category of substance

stands under the title of relation, rather because it is the condition

thereof than because it contains in itself any relation.

Now, upon this notion of permanence rests the proper notion of the

conception change. Origin and extinction are not changes of that which

originates or becomes extinct. Change is but a mode of existence,

which follows on another mode of existence of the same object; hence

all that changes is permanent, and only the condition thereof changes.

Now since this mutation affects only determinations, which can have

a beginning or an end, we may say, employing an expression which seems

somewhat paradoxical: "Only the permanent (substance) is subject to

change; the mutable suffers no change, but rather alternation, that

is, when certain determinations cease, others begin."

Change, when, cannot be perceived by us except in substances, and

origin or extinction in an absolute sense, that does not concern

merely a determination of the permanent, cannot be a possible

perception, for it is this very notion of the permanent which

renders possible the representation of a transition from one state

into another, and from non-being to being, which, consequently, can be

empirically cognized only as alternating determinations of that

which is permanent. Grant that a thing absolutely begins to be; we

must then have a point of time in which it was not. But how and by

what can we fix and determine this point of time, unless by that which

already exists? For a void time- preceding- is not an object of

perception; but if we connect this beginning with objects which

existed previously, and which continue to exist till the object in

question in question begins to be, then the latter can only be a

determination of the former as the permanent. The same holds good of

the notion of extinction, for this presupposes the empirical

representation of a time, in which a phenomenon no longer exists.

Substances (in the world of phenomena) are the substratum of all

determinations of time. The beginning of some, and the ceasing to be