Christian August Crusius: Draft of necessary truths of reason, in so far as they are set opposite to contingent ones - Space and time

Crusius begins a new chapter by pointing out that our thinking begins from sensations. This implies that we already implicitly begin with a notion of existence, sensation being its criterion. Crusius admits this, but adds that we must still abstract the notion of existence from our sensations.

We have seen Wolff defining existence as something added to possibility - in effect, this was no real definition of existence, but existence was a combination of various concepts, namely the existences of complex things, simple things and God, some of which we can define and understand, while others we can’t. Crusius does admit Wolff’s point in some sense. What Wolff was trying to do was to define existence in terms of how it is generated (for instance, complex things are generated by combining simpler things), and Crusius accepts that we cannot ultimately know where existence comes from. Yet, he insists that this is a false way to approach the problem and says that we can define existence rather simply as being in space and time.

What then are these space and time for Crucius? Starting from space, he says that space is just where we think all existing substances are and what is left, when we remove all substances in our thought. Space is then independent of all substances in it or absolute.

Crusius defends his notion of space with an argument that clearly inspired Kant’s discussion of space, although the conclusions of both are very different. Indeed, Crusius begins by pointing out that space is not considered to be a substance, since otherwise we would fall into an infinite loop, because all substances are thought to be in space. Then, just like Kant, Crusius considers the possibility that space might be taken as a property of some substance, but decides against it, because space is not thought to be in some subjects, but subjects are thought to be in space.

Finally, Crusius looks upon the idea that space might be a relation. He notes that if space would be a relation, it would have to be a relation of substances being next to one another (here the inclusion of the notion of a substance in the definition is necessary, because e.g. music also has things next to one another, namely, sounds, but space is the only thing, where these beings next to one another are substances). Still, Crusius concludes, even this possibility is unsatisfactory, because even a single substance would have to be thought of as being in space.

Crusius’ argument is meant to show that his notion of space agrees with what everyone thinks space is. There’s still the possibility that space is a kind of collective delusion or mere imagination. Crusius rejects this possibility by referring back to his criteria of truth: since we cannot separate in our thoughts existence from space, they should be accepted as truly connected, unless this incapacity of separation is somehow connected to limitations of our understanding. Kant would later argue that we really can’t say, if it is down to some limitation of our cognition, but Crusius does not consider this possible: otherwise, we would have to reject also the principle of sufficient reason as susceptible.

Crusius admits that some people have rejected the notion of absolute space as something independent of substances and taken it as a mere relation of substances. One reason for this is simply that they assume space must be substance, property or relation, and because the two first options seem impossible, they have assumed that it can only be a relation. Crusius notes that his very point has been that these are not all the options: while notions of substance and property are concepts linked to essences, spatiality is a component of or abstraction from concrete existence.

More concerning for Crusius seems the objection that the absolute space would rival God in dignity, because both would be eternal and necessary. Crusius’ answer is that space is not a complete thing or substance, but a mere abstraction from existence of all substances. Thus, even God is in a sense spatial, because he could be said to exist everywhere. Of course, Crusius thinks that God’s existence is not bodily and so cannot be sensed. Therefore space could be empty in the sense of being without any bodies, even with God present in it. Extrapolating from this, Crusius suggests that all simple substances might be in space in a similar non-sensuous fashion, or as he puts it in terms that Kant was to borrow later, they fill space, but do not extend it.

After defining some concepts related to space, such as location, Crusius turns to discuss time. His main point is similar as with space: time is not a substance nor a property or a relation, but an abstraction out of existence of actual things, and more precisely, their succession following one another. Importantly, Crusius thinks that time is absolute or independent of things and that it is not mere imagination. A point Crusius did not make with space is that although we cannot think of an infinity of time or eternity, this only tells of the limitations of our understanding.

Crusius then returns to the notion of possibility. He suggests that the criteria of possibility earlier considered - that of non-contradiction - delineates only the realm of ideal possibilities or possibilities in thought. A more substantial form of real possibility, he continues, refers to things that do not yet exist. In other words, such a real possibility will at some point come into existence, and its possibility outside thought is guaranteed by causes that will eventually make the possibility actual. Crusius notes that such real possibility is dependent on the existence of something, namely, its cause. Thus, if nothing exists, nothing will be possible.

When the realm of possible is restricted, the realm of impossible grows. Thus, not just contradictions make something impossible, Crusius explains, but anything that prevents something to have causes that would make them existent. Crusius refers especially to the principles he has inherited from Hoffmann that combination or separation of concepts we cannot make are impossible, barring the possibility that our incapacity is due just to our limited understanding.

We already saw earlier a few reasons why the principle should not hold, such as a revelation by some more perfect spirit. Here Crusius outlines a few further reasons, which he has again inherited from Hoffmann. Firstly, although we could not separate something from a negative concept, this might not be true of a more perfect being, for instance, although we cannot abstract things from limits, another being might be able to think infinities. Secondly, although we could not combine things, this might not be impossible, if we are dealing with immaterial entities.

Christian August Crusius: Draft of necessary truths of reason, in so far as they are set opposite to contingent ones - What’s in an essence?

An important division of things in Crusius’ ontology we didn’t consider last time is that of incomplete things. An incomplete thing, Crusius explains, is such that, if it should exist, it must be connected to some other thing. A good example would be a location of a thing in relation to other things: clearly, if a location exists, there must be a thing which is located in this manner.

In addition to such external circumstances (umstände) like location, examples of incomplete things, Crusius says, are provided by the relation of subsistence. Crusius has inherited this notion from tradition, but as it is simple and cannot therefore be really defined, it is difficult to understand what is meant by something subsisting in something else. Crusius does provide illustrations of the relation, examples being relation of a certain shape to a piece of matter, understanding to a soul and even foot to a human being. Here, that which subsists Crusius calls property (rather confusingly, because properties were also parts of essence) or predicamental accident, while that where something subsists is called a subject.

In a rather inconsistent manner, Crusius sometimes speaks as if subjects were the stable element in the relation, although in many other places he underlines that subject and its accidents are incomplete and only their combination - essence or substance - is the true complete thing, just like matter and shape or form are just two aspects of a shaped material object, like a book.

Subsistence relation forms chains, with subjects subsisting in further subjects, Crusius explains, just like science subsists in understanding and understanding in soul. Crusius suggests that these chains cannot go on indefinitely, but there must be some absolute subjects, which do not subsist in anything else. Well, to make the matters more difficult, Crusius suggests then that even absolute subjects can subsist in a further subject, just not like a property subsists in a subject.

In some cases a subject is necessarily connected to a certain property, in other cases not, Crusius says. Examples of the latter would be, on the one hand, red colour of a house, on the other hand, person’s ability to speak Latin. These two examples are very different in nature. Someone might not have an ability to speak Latin, without having an ability to speak anything else, Crusius notes. Then again, if the house is not red, it still has some colour. Colour is what Crusius calls a house’s possible way of existence or its determination.

A thing with some determinations missing cannot really exist, Crusius explains, although we can think of such an indeterminate thing as a subject of further determinations. Just like Wolffians, Crusius defines an individual thing as being fully determinate. With all its determinations, an individual is differentiated from all other individuals, while abstractions from individuals can exist only in several individuals.

Crusius also divides properties into positive and negative properties. This division is linked with the notion of determinations in the sense that when we think of a negative property, we then implicitly think of some positive property, but only indeterminately (what is not yellow is still coloured somehow). Crusius divides negative properties further into merely negative and privative determinations (think how it is different to say that coal is not alive and that JFK is not alive). Similarly, he divides positive properties into absolute properties and relations.

To further explain what makes property positive, Crusius states that all of them are forces, that is, they make other things possible or even actual by themselves or with the help of something else. This leads Crusius to deal with the notion of causality. Epistemically, he says, causality is justified by it being impossible to think of something being generated without being an effect of some cause. The corresponding principle of sufficient reason, Crusius insists, cannot be deduced from the principle of non-contradiction, because there is no contradiction when things are different at different times. Furthermore, he continues, causality is a concept we cannot really define - it is so simple that we can only show how this concept can be abstracted from our experience by noting e.g. how our experiences of fire and warmth are linked to one another, without one being part or determination of the other.

Crusius also links causality to what he calls a principle of contingency: what can be thought as not existing must have really not existed at some point in time. The idea behind this principle is that if we then find such a contingent thing existing at some point, it must have been actualised by some force.

Forces or causes are for Crusius one type of ground. There are also other types of ground, he continues. For instance, because a triangle has sides of certain lengths, it must also have angles of certain sizes. Here, the lengths of the sides are a ground for the sizes of the angles, although the sizes clearly do not cause the angles to be of a certain size. Crusius calls such an existential ground.

Both causal ground and existential ground fall under what Crusius calls a real ground: the idea is that in these cases what is grounded is something outside thought. Ideal ground, on the other hand, Crusius defines as something generating knowledge and conviction of something. He also divides ideal grounds into a posteriori and a priori grounds. In an a posteriori ground the concept of what we are about to prove is already present, while the ground at most reveals that this something exists. A priori ground, on the other hand, generates also an idea of what we are grounding.

Returning back from this detour to an essence and its properties, we find Crusius dealing with what he calls the fundamental essence of a thing and attributes, which are constant properties, grounded in the very fundamental essence of the thing. Some of these attributes are necessary or essential: the existence of these attributes is inevitable, once the fundamental essence behind them is supposed to exist. The other type of attribute Crusius deals with is natural attribute or property, which is present in things of certain type usually, but could be absent in extraordinary cases, although the fundamental essence of the thing would remain the same. He notes also that some attributes are based only on the fundamental essence of the thing, while others are based also on external, but constant causes.

Crucius notes also that some attributes mark a real existence of some condition, while others mark only a capacity for something, activated by external causes, contingent activity of the fundamental essence or both. Such activation of capacities makes then possible the change of contingent properties or modi of a thing. By a modus Crusius refers to properties that make an indeterminate thing more determinate by adding to constant properties something variable, which could be replaced by another modus.

Crusius also considers the distinction between a necessary and a contingent fundamental essence. In a necessary fundamental essence properties constituting the fundamental essence of a thing cannot be separated from one another without supposing some contradiction. In this case, also the attributes flowing from the fundamental essence of the thing must be necessary, and indeed, the only thing that can be up to chance is whether the thing itself exists at all. Contingent fundamental essence, on the other hand, refers to a fundamental essence, where some of the constituent properties can be removed without any contradiction. Crusius notes that all finite substances have in this sense a contingent fundamental essence.

These notions lead Crusius to consider a more general question: what does it mean when we consider whether presupposition of a certain determinate essence contradicts a presence or absence of a certain property? His answer is that all this question can reveal is that presence or absence of a property is necessary for a certain concept. Thus, we cannot add a fourth angle to a triangle, without making it not agree with the concept of a triangle. This does not mean that the properties of the thing would be necessary outside our concepts (e.g. a triangle could be changed into a quadrangle). Such a substantial necessity of properties is present only in the cases, Crusius explains, where removal of this necessary property would make the thing incapable of even existing.

Christian August Crusius: Draft of necessary truths of reason, in so far as they are set opposite to contingent ones - Thing is

Whether it was called something (Etwas) or thing (Ding), which Crusius prefers, ontologies of the time often began from a concept opposite to nothing. By this thing that is not nothing, Crusius explains, we can mean anything whatsoever that can be thought of. Yet, he continues, we can also distinguish in the class of things that can be thought those which we can only think (merely possible things) and those that are or exist also outside our thought (actual things or things in a more proper sense).

Crusius follows Hoffman in trying to find criteria for recognising what is possible and what is not and finding ultimately three criteria, only one of which is absolutely certain. The basic sign of something being a possible thing, Crusius insists, is whether someone can think it: possibility is thus equated with an ideal comprehensibility. Since no one could think as true such things that contradict themselves or known truths, we must assume that such contradictions are a sign of an impossible thing.

The principle of non-contradiction, Crusius says, is a demand that all possible things should fulfill. Then again, he adds, all possible things need not be comprehensible to us humans: a point that Hoffman made before Crusius. The idea behind this rejection is that a more perfect mind (such as God) might be able to comprehend something we cannot. Thus, if such a perfect and undeceiving person tells us to believe some apparent absurdity (say, about three persons in one divinity), then we should believe him. Crusius points out two other cases where we should believe such absurdities to be true or at least possible. Firstly, since the law of non-contradiction is the highest criteria of possibility, we must believe a seeming absurdity, if denying it would create contradictions. Secondly, if we are obligated to assume something incomprehensible in order to perfect ourselves, then we should surely accept these incomprehensibilities as true or at least possible. If none of these conditions holds and nothing else speaks to the contrary, then we should think it impossible to separate what we cannot think as separated and to combine what we cannot think as combined. These two principles complete Crusius’ criteria of possibility.

Moving on to Crusius’ criterion for recognising what is actual we might wonder whether he is actually talking about necessity: if we try to deny something actual, we immediately or mediately assume something we cannot think as true, that is, something impossible. The perplexity might go away, if we assume that, just like possibility was defined in relation to the perfect divine mind, so perhaps actuality is also here defined in relation to God. After all, God knows perfectly what there is, so if he assumes something to be non-existent, which actually is, he would land in contradiction.

Humans are not divine, so we have only a limited connection to what is actual. The human criteria of actuality, Crusius says, are always linked to sensation, which Crusius defines as a state where we are immediately forced to assume something without any further proof and which will not be revealed as imagination or dream when compared with other sensations. Indeed, without sensation we could not know that anything exists outside our own thoughts. Even our own existence we become aware of not through our thinking, like Descartes insisted, but through our internal sensation, Crusius concludes.

Having thus delineated the realm of possible and actual things, as far as we humans can know them, Crusius defines some further concepts that he will study in more detail later. For instance, when we think of a thing, whether possible or actual, we think it as distinct from other things. In other words, we think what this thing is as different from all others or we think about its (metaphysical) essence. This essence might be divided into various aspects, which help to distinguish the thing in question from some things, but not from others, just as redness serves to distinguish rose from green things, but not from tomatoes. Such aspects Crusius calls properties or qualities. Since what a thing is is a question different from whether a thing is, existence is still something different from essence and its constituent properties: essence and properties are something we can think of, existence is something beyond thought.

Christian August Crusius: Draft of necessary truths of reason, in so far as they are set opposite to contingent ones (1745)

It is interesting to notice that some central ideas of Crusius’ philosophy are based on the work of his teacher, Hoffman, who, for instance, invented the notion of thelematology or study of human will, the topic of the first book of Crusius we have studied. Crusius’ work Entwurf der notwendigen Vernunftwahrheiten, wiefern sie den zufälligen entgegengestellt werden also starts with a very Hoffmanian notion: metaphysics is a study of necessary truths, both of those which are necessary as such and those which are necessary, if we assume or posit the existence of a world. He does exclude some necessary truths from the realm of metaphysics: those of practical philosophy, where necessary and contingent truths are difficult to distinguish, and those of mathematics, which are simply too numerous.

Crusius’ definition might seem rather uninteresting: after all, Kant said that this had been the idea behind traditional metaphysics. Yet, once we look at e.g. Wolff, we see him defining metaphysics through certain topics and even including such disciplines as empirical psychology in it. Indeed, it seems more likely that Kant was accustomed to the way metaphysics was defined in Hoffmanian tradition - more specifically, he had read Crusius - and now just transmitted this idea further.

Although Crusius speaks against defining metaphysics through its topics, he does divide it in accordance with them. We are probably not surprised to find ontology and natural theology as parts of metaphysics, and by speaking of metaphysical cosmology, Crusius appears to just want to restrict the traditional discipline of cosmology to necessary truths and exclude e.g. laws of movement. A more unexpected name on the list is the so-called metaphysical pneumatology. It roughly plays the same role as psychology in Wolff’s metaphysics. Yet, unlike psychology, pneumatology is said to study only the necessary essence of spirits. What is especially missing is an account of the human soul and its relation to body, since it is not necessary that there are embodied spirits.

Although necessity is then an important feature of metaphysics for Crusius, this does not mean that he would want everything in it to be demonstrated. In other words, he distinguishes between necessity in an ontological sense from certainty. This means that even mere proofs of probability suffice, if demonstrations are not available. Indeed, Crusius adds, they might be even needed, when the demonstrations are available, because common people might not be prepared for the intricacies of complex demonstrations.

I shall still deal in this post with some general facts about the first part of metaphysics or ontology, leaving more precise details of Crusius’ ontology and the other parts of his metaphysics to further posts. The topic of ontology, for Crusius, is the most general features of all things. This means, he explains, that whatever things were given, a keen mind could discern the whole ontology from them. Indeed, he says more generally, whatever the topic of a metaphysical discipline, we could in principle discern everything of that discipline from an instance of that topic.

Ontology, Crusius explains, must then deal with the simplest concepts possible. This simplicity is not the same as simplicity in what we can sense, such as the simplicity of colours, which we can distinguish from one another without being able to explain their difference. Such sensuous simples are only simple, he adds, because we haven’t yet been able to analyse them further. The ontological simples, on the other hand, are the result of an analysis, and we know we cannot analyse them further. Still, we can distinguish even these ontological simples, because they play different roles in the analysis of complex things.

Next time, I shall begin a study of one of these simple concepts, namely, the notion of a thing.

Georg Friedrich Meier: Figure of a true philosopher (1745)

Meier’s philosophical work has so far been refreshingly different from what German philosophers of the period in general have been doing. We’ve already seen Meier tackle with the topic of humour, and now he will attempt to paint the picture of a true philosopher in his Abbildung eines wahren weltweisen.

Meier’s motive for writing his work is to eradicate prejudices laymen have against philosophers. Problem is, Meier says, that there are innumerably more philosophers in name only than there are real philosophers. By painting a general picture of a true philosopher Meier aims at silencing critics who fault philosophy for quirks of individual would-be philosophers.

In addition to this advantage of marketing philosophy for non-philosophers, Meier’s image should also serve philosophers themselves. It should serve as an instruction manual for becoming a philosopher and as a measuring stick, with which to evaluate development of oneself and others, even if no human being could ever completely fill the shoes shown in Meier’s image.

Meier borrows Baumgarten’s definition of philosophy as the highest science, concerning general properties of all things, which can be known without the help of faith. Meier admits that a perfect knowledge of philosophy cannot be reached by mere humans, but only by God, who knows literally everything. Meier’s image of a true philosopher takes into account the necessary limitedness of humans: true philosopher, he says, does not try to know more than is humanly possible. Furthermore, a true philosopher knows that humans have more important duties than learning philosophy, like serving other people.

Although humans cannot know everything and shouldn’t spend their lives solely with philosophy, within these limits the true philosopher tries to emulate the divine omniscience, Meier notes. This means, firstly, that the true philosopher should have extensive knowledge of all philosophical disciplines and other fields of learning. This does not mean that they should know everything in an equal fashion. Instead, Meier says, the true philosopher should choose one discipline that they learn extremely well. Thus, different philosophers could specialise in different topics.

Meier remarks that the true philosopher chooses the easiest route to knowledge. Thus, they do not try to learn all by themselves, but read philosophical books and listen to other philosophers. Still, they will also themselves strive to enrich the field of human knowledge with their own investigations.

Not all truths are of equal value, Meier says, but some are of more value and nobility than others. Some truths of lesser value even a true philosopher must know - some of these form a sort of philosophical ABC - but they should strive to know the more valuable ones. Nobility of a truth has nothing to do with it concerning concrete topics, Meier notes, although common people often discredit abstract truth as worthless. Indeed, he continues, the true philosophers are the best to recognise what sort of truth is noble. Meier himself points out two characteristics of such truths. Firstly, such truths and their consequences touch upon many important things, like religion, state, virtue and the happiness of whole humankind. Secondly, knowing noble truths requires more effort, while common truths are easy to know.

In addition to nobility, Meier adds, the true philosopher has to know fruitful truths, that is truths which have many useful consequences. In other words, the true philosopher is no bookworm, but knows what’s most helpful in different walks of life. Then again, Meier insists that all truths could be deduced from other truths and are in principle equally useful. True, we humans cannot always recognise such connections, but the true philosopher should still be ready that a seemingly useless truth will prove to be important for someone else.

Clarity is also a virtue of a true philosopher, Meier says. This means, firstly, that they try to use logic for clarifying what they know by finding signs required for defining things. Meier notes that this is not to be regarded as pedantry. Indeed, the true philosopher is not a mystic, who delights in inclarities. Still, Meier adds, the true philosopher know also the limits of definition and understands that everything cannot be defined so clearly. Thus, they are no charlatans who would offer mere tautologies, when definitions cannot be given. The true philosopher is especially keen on making their own special discipline as clear as possible, leaving petty things undefined.

Meier follows Baumgarten in accepting that clarity means not just logical acuteness, but also strength of representations. Thus, Meier wants that the true philosopher should not try to perfect just their understanding, but also their imagination, wit and other faculties. In other words, the true philosopher should be an aesthetician, who can tell beautifully and vividly about the things they know.

An evident, but quite crucial side of a true philosopher is, Meier emphasises, that they try to be as correct as is humanly possible. Again, this is not completely possible for a human being, but the true philosopher tries to at least minimise the possibility of an error by choosing wilful ignorance over an unfounded dogmatism. In other words, the true philosopher is no blind sectarian.

Truth for Meier does not mean just that something is correct, but also orderliness. Hence, he wants that the true philosopher should also know things in an ordered fashion. This means that the knowledge of the true philosopher is regulated in accordance with the highest principles of knowledge - principles of non-contradiction and sufficient reason. The knowledge of the true philosopher is so ordered in a hierarchy of disciplines, where some are dependent on more general disciplines.

In addition to having clear knowledge, Meier continues, the true philosopher should have a clear notion of knowing these things. In other words, they should be certain of their knowledge. The way to make one’s knowledge more certain, Meier says, is to demonstrate it, of if that is not possible, to back it up with lesser justifications. Of course, full certainty is not always possible for a human being nor is it a guarantee for the truth of something. Thus, Meier admits, the true philosopher is ready to accept things only hypothetically, until further evidence clears the matter.

Meier is also adamant that the true philosopher should put their knowledge into practice. In principle, Meier says, this could be done with any knowledge. Yet, it is especially true about knowledge concerning ourselves, that is, anthropology, which Meier takes to be of utmost importance to the true philosopher. Furthermore, he continues, the true philosopher should take the duties of practical philosophy seriously and find in them motives for their actions.

Meier also notes the true philosopher should have good motives for learning philosophy. We have already mentioned one of them, namely, that of emulating God and thus perfecting oneself. In addition, he remarks, the true philosopher is motivated to help others, and in general, to work for the good of the whole humanity.

Christian Wolff: Natural right 5 - Serving others

Wolff ends this hodgepodge of a book with the notion of servitus. Wolff’s definition of servitus might at first seem rather difficult to comprehend - servitus is a right one has to a thing of another person. The idea becomes clearer when we move from this abstract level to more concrete examples. One particular instance of servitus is such where a person is allowed to walk or ride through another person’s estate to their own. Other types of servitus might involve a right to hunt in neighbour’s land, right to collect nuts or berries from it or a right to draw water from a well in it.

All the examples just given involve estates in a more rural area, but there are forms of servitus that are appropriate to more urban living areas. Thus, in one type of servitus a building may use the wall of another building as a supporting structure. Furthermore, the examples have all been affirmative in the sense that they allow a person to do something to the thing of another. Another type of servitus is negative in the sense that it involves a right to prevent an owner from doing something. For instance, an owner of an estate might be prevented from building a too tall building that would obstruct the view of the neighbour.

Majority of servitus are, Wolff insists, based on the free choice of the owners of the things in question. Yet, he admits, some of them might be obligated by the natural law. For instance, an owner of a building should take care that neighbouring buildings still receive enough light for normal proceedings of life. Thus, a building owner might be obligated into a servitus, where their neighbour is able to demand the placement of windows on their building, so that light can come through to the neighbouring estate.

All the examples of servitus presented thus far have been what Wolff calls a real servitus, that is, they involve relations between two estates. This type of servitus remains valid, even if the owner of the estate changes. A completely different is the case with what Wolff calls personal servitus, which is tied to a certain person and is cancelled e.g. if the person in question dies. A good example of this type of servitus is usufruct, in which a person is allowed to use a thing belonging to another person and even gather profits from it, as long as the thing in question remains substantially same.

Christian Wolff: Natural right 5 - Pawnshops and mortgages

Next topics in Wolff’s natural right are jus pignoris and jus hypothecae. The basic idea behind both is the same: a debtor pledges something for the creditor as a surety of the debt. In other words, if the debtor will not pay the debt at agreed time, the creditor has a right (jus) to sell the pledged thing to cover the remaining debt. In case of jus pignoris, the pledged thing is literally handed to the possession of the creditor - think of a pawnshop - while in jus hypothecae, the pledged thing is not and perhaps even cannot be transferred to the possession of the creditor - a good example is a mortgage loan, where the debtor uses their home as a security for a loan. In case of jus hypothecae, the pledged thing can also be something that does not yet exist, such as fruits of the next season.

The main point in both jus pignoris and jus hypothecae is then the creditor’s right to sell the surety, unless the debt is paid on time. Wolff notes that this is a conditional right, and if the creditor tries to sell the surety before the debt was due, the creditor loses completely the right to sell the surety. Furthermore, he notes, the pledged thing should be sold for a fair price, and if the money received from the sale exceeds the debt, hyperocha or the excess is to be handed to the debtor. Then again, if the money received is less than the debt, Wolff adds, the debtor is to provide the rest in some other manner.

If no one is willing to buy the pledged thing or if all buyers offer inadequate payments, Wolff continues, the creditor can also take the pledged thing itself as a payment of the debt. Then again, the creditor need not do this. In the latter case, if the debtor has no other way to pay the debt, the creditor should just wait for finding a suitable buyer. Then again, Wolff concludes, at some indefinite point the creditor just has to accept the ownership of the thing as a payment.

Pledging something does not change its ownership, Wolff reminds the reader. Hence, the debtor has the right to sell or otherwise transfer the ownership of the pledged thing to someone else. If the debtor does that, this does not infringe upon the creditor’s right to sell the thing, if the debt is not paid. Similarly, the creditor has the right to transfer the jus pignoris or hypothecae to someone else, for instance, by simply handing a pawned item to someone else’s possession. The creditor can also pledge the thing pledged to them to someone else, as a security for their own debt. In this case, Wolff notes, the debt of the original creditor should not be more valuable than the debt of the original debtor.

A person can pledge only such things as they own, Wolff explains, but they can pledge things as securities for debts that belong to someone else. If someone pledges a thing that does not belong to them, without the consent of the owner, the creditor does not gain any rights to it and has to restitute it to the owner. Then again, if the owner does deliver the pledged thing or otherwise consents, the pledge becomes valid. Furthermore, Wolff notes, a thing belonging to someone else can be conditionally pledged: “if it becomes mine”.

The creditor is obligated to take care of the pledged thing in their possession, Wolff notes. If something happens to the thing due to the creditor’s fault, they must repay any damages to the owner of the pledged thing. Indeed, Wolff adds, the debtor has no obligation to even pay the debt, if the pledged thing is damaged so gravely that it cannot be sold for the debt. Then again, if the damage happens, although the creditor has been diligent in taking care of it, they owe nothing to the debtor.

The care of the creditor for the pledged thing extends even to paying the necessary expenses for its maintenance. If the creditor has been forced to pay such expenses, the debtor is obligated to repay them to the creditor. Then again, creditor has no right to make any unnecessary investments to the pledged thing without the consent of its owner, even if these investments were useful.

The creditor is usually not allowed to use the pledged thing or to take advantage of its products: such an action constitutes then a theft. Then again, Wolff notes, in the so-called antichretic pact such a right is explicitly conferred to the creditor as a substitute for usuries. Even then, the use of the thing and the profit gained from it should not be more valuable than the usuries would be. Furthermore, Wolff points out, antichretic pact cannot be made concerning things that deteriorate when used.

If debt in question is somehow resolved, Wolff notes, whether by the debtor or someone else paying it or by the creditor annulling the debt, the respective jus pignoris or hypothecae is also cancelled. Yet, jus pignoris or hypothecae can also be cancelled, even if the debt remains in force, for instance, if a pawnbroker gives the pawned item back to its owner. Another way to cancel jus pignoris or hypothecae without canceling the debt occurs when the pledged thing is destroyed or lost. Wolff also notes that the last clause doesn’t necessarily hold when it comes to houses, because a right to a house extends to its very foundations, which still remain, even if house is destroyed.