NOTES

Indeed, still more may be said in praise of the services rendered to the recognition of natural law and morality by these pre-ethical, though not pre-historical, times. The legal ordinances and customs formed in this time, owing to the reasons previously assigned, approached so closely to what ethics demands, that this peculiar kind of mimicry blinded many to the absence of a more thorough going affinity. What, in the one case, a blind impulse and in the other, knowledge of the good exalts into a law, is often completely the same in substance. The legislative moral authority found therefore in these already codified laws and customs the rough drafts, as it were, of laws, which with a few changes, it could sanction without more ado. These were the more valuable because, as seems required from a utilitarian point of view, they were adapted to the special circumstances of the people. A comparison of the one constitution with the other made this noticeable, and early helped to lead to the important knowledge of the real relativity of natural right and of natural morality. Who knows whether otherwise, it would have been possible, even for an Aristotle, to succeed to the degree in which he did in steering clear of all cut and dried doctrinaire theories?

So much, therefore, concerning the pre-ethical times, in order that these may not be denied the acknowledgment which they deserve.

48.Nevertheless it was then night; though a night which heralded the coming day, and the dawn of that day witnessed assuredly the most glorious sunrise which, in the history of the world is yet to rise into full splendour.I say, is to rise, not has risen, for we still see the light struggling with the powers of darkness. True ethical motives, in private as in public life, are still far from being everywhere the determining standard. These forces—to use the language of the poet[A]—prove themselves still too little developed to hold together the structure of the world; and so nature,—and we have need to be thankful that it is so—keeps the machine going by hunger and love, and, we must also add, by all those other dark strivings which, as we have seen, may be developed from self-seeking desires.

[A]Schiller.

49.Of these, and their psychological laws the jurist must, therefore, if he would truly understand his time, and influence it beneficially, take cognizance, as well as of the doctrines of natural right and natural morality which our inquiry has shown to be not the first but—in so far as hope in the realization of a complete ideal may be cherished at all—will be the last in the history of the development of law and morality.

Thus the near relationships of jurisprudence and politics of which Leibnitz spoke, become evident in their full range.

Plato has said: “It will never be well with the state until the true philosopher is king, or kings philosophize rightly.” In our constitutional times we should express ourselves better by saying that there will never be a change for the better regarding the many evils in our national life until the authorities, instead of abolishing the limited philosophical culture required for law students by the existing regulations, shall rather strive hard to secure that for their noble profession they shall really receive an adequate philosophical culture.

[1](p. 2). Cf. “Über die Entstehung des Rechtsgefühls.” Lecture by Dr. Rudolf von Ihering, delivered before the Vienna Law Society, March 12, 1884 (Allgem. Juristenzeitung, 7 Jahrg., No. 11 seq., Vienna, March 16-April 13, 1884). Cf. further, v. Ihering,Der Zweck im Recht, vol. ii. Leipzig, 1877-83.

[2](p. 2). For the first point, cf.Allgem. Juristenzeitung, 7 Jahrg. p. 122 seq.,Zweck im Recht, vol. ii. p. 109 seq. For the second pointAllgem. Juristenzeitung, 7 Jahrg. p. 171,Zweck im Recht, pp. 118-123. It is here denied that there is any absolutely valid ethical rule (pp. 118, 122 seq.); further every “psychological” treatment of ethics, according to which ethics is represented “as twin sister of logic” is contested.

[3](p. 4).Allgem. Juristenzeitung, 7 Jahrg., p. 147; cf.Zweck im Recht, vol. ii. p. 124 seq.

[4](p. 4). Aristotle,Politics, i. 2, p. 1252 b. 24.

[5](p. 4). Cf. e.g.Allgem. Juristenzeitung, 7 Jahrg. p. 146.

[6](p. 5).Rep.2. 31.

[7](p. 5).Dig.1. 8, 9.

[8](p. 6). Amongst the numerous adherents of this view and one of its best advocates is J. S. Mill in hisUtilitarianism, chap. iii.

[9](p. 6). Here also, along with many others, J. S. Mill may be cited. The motives of hope and fear are, according to him, theexternal; the motives first described, the feelings developed by habit, the internal sanction.Utilitarianism, chap. iii.

[10](p. 7). Cf. espec. here a discussion in James Mill’sFragment on Mackintosh, printed by J. S. Mill in the second edition of hisAnalysis of the phenomena of the human mind, vol. ii. p. 309 seq.; and Grote’s powerful essay published by A. Bain under the title, “Fragments on Ethical Subjects, by the late George Grote, F.R.S.,” being a selection from his posthumous papers, London, 1876; Espec. Essay 1,On the Origin and Nature of Ethical Sentiment.

[11](p. 9). D. Hume,An Enquiry concerning the Principles of Morals, London, 1751.

[12](p. 9). Herbart,Lehrbuch zur Einleitung in die Philosophie, 81 seq.Collected Works, vol. i. p. 124 seq.

[13](p. 9). This comparison with logic should be my best defence against the charge of placing Herbart’s doctrine in a false light. Were the logical criterion to consist in judgments of taste experienced on the appearance of thought-processes in accordance with or opposition to rule, it would then, in comparison with what it actually is (the internal self-evidence of a process in accordance with rule) have to be called external. Similarly Herbart’s criterion of ethics is rightly characterized as external, however loudly Herbartians may insist that in the judgment of taste which arises spontaneously on the contemplation of certain relations of will, an inner superiority regarding these relations is recognizable.

[14](p. 10). In hisGrundlegung zur Metaphysik der Sitten, Kant enunciates his Categorical Imperative in the following forms: “Act only in accordance with that maxim which you can at the same time will should become a universal law,” and “Act as if the maxim of your action were by your will to be raised to a universal law.”In theCritique of Practical Reasonit runs “Act so that the maxim of your will could on each occasion be valid as a universal legislative principle,” i.e. as Kant himself explains, in such a way that the maxim, when raised to a universal law, does not lead to contradictions and consequent self-abrogation. The consciousness of this fundamental law was, for Kant, a fact of pure reason,thereby proclaiming itself to be legislative (sic volo sic jubeo). Beneke has already observed (Grundlinien der Sittenlehre, vol. ii. p. xviii., 1841; cf. hisGrundlegung zur Physik der Sitten, a counterpart to Kant’sGrundlegung zur Metaphysik der Sitten, 1822) that it is nothing more than a “psychologische Dichtung,” and to-day no one able to judge is any longer in doubt concerning it. It deserves to be noted that even philosophers like Mansel, who have the highest reverence for Kant, admit that the Categorical Imperative is a fiction and absolutely untenable.The Categorical Imperative has at the same time another and not less serious defect, i.e. that even when admitted, it leads to no ethical conclusions. Kant fails, as Mill (Utilitarianism, chap. i.) rightly says “in an almost grotesque fashion” to deduce what he seeks. His favourite example of a deduction, by which he illustrates his manner of procedure not only in hisGrundlegung zur Metaphysik der Sittenbut also in theCritique of Practical Reasonis as follows: May a person, he asks, retain for himself a possession which has been entrusted to him without a receipt or other acknowledgment? He answers, No. For he thinks, were the opposite maxim to be raised to a law, nobody, under such circumstances, would entrust anything to anybody. The law would then be without possibility of application, therefore impracticable and so self-abrogated.It may easily be seen that Kant’s argumentation is false, indeed absurd. If, in consequence of the law, certain actions ceased to be practised, the law exercises an influence; it therefore still exists and has in no way annulled itself. How ridiculous would it appear if the following question were treated after an analogous fashion: “May I yield to a person who desires to bribe me?” Yes, since, were I to think of the opposite maxim as raised to a universal law, then nobody would seek any longer to bribe another; therefore the law would be without application, therefore, impracticable, and so self-abrogated.

In theCritique of Practical Reasonit runs “Act so that the maxim of your will could on each occasion be valid as a universal legislative principle,” i.e. as Kant himself explains, in such a way that the maxim, when raised to a universal law, does not lead to contradictions and consequent self-abrogation. The consciousness of this fundamental law was, for Kant, a fact of pure reason,thereby proclaiming itself to be legislative (sic volo sic jubeo). Beneke has already observed (Grundlinien der Sittenlehre, vol. ii. p. xviii., 1841; cf. hisGrundlegung zur Physik der Sitten, a counterpart to Kant’sGrundlegung zur Metaphysik der Sitten, 1822) that it is nothing more than a “psychologische Dichtung,” and to-day no one able to judge is any longer in doubt concerning it. It deserves to be noted that even philosophers like Mansel, who have the highest reverence for Kant, admit that the Categorical Imperative is a fiction and absolutely untenable.

The Categorical Imperative has at the same time another and not less serious defect, i.e. that even when admitted, it leads to no ethical conclusions. Kant fails, as Mill (Utilitarianism, chap. i.) rightly says “in an almost grotesque fashion” to deduce what he seeks. His favourite example of a deduction, by which he illustrates his manner of procedure not only in hisGrundlegung zur Metaphysik der Sittenbut also in theCritique of Practical Reasonis as follows: May a person, he asks, retain for himself a possession which has been entrusted to him without a receipt or other acknowledgment? He answers, No. For he thinks, were the opposite maxim to be raised to a law, nobody, under such circumstances, would entrust anything to anybody. The law would then be without possibility of application, therefore impracticable and so self-abrogated.

It may easily be seen that Kant’s argumentation is false, indeed absurd. If, in consequence of the law, certain actions ceased to be practised, the law exercises an influence; it therefore still exists and has in no way annulled itself. How ridiculous would it appear if the following question were treated after an analogous fashion: “May I yield to a person who desires to bribe me?” Yes, since, were I to think of the opposite maxim as raised to a universal law, then nobody would seek any longer to bribe another; therefore the law would be without application, therefore, impracticable, and so self-abrogated.

[15](p. 11). Cf. J. S. Mill,System of Deductive and Inductive Logic, vol. iv. chap. iv. section vi. (towards the end); vol. vi. chap. ii. section iv. and elsewhere, e.g. in hisUtilitarianism,Essays on Religion, and in his article onComte and Positivism, part ii.

[16](p. 11). Cf. with what has been said in the lecture the first chapter of the Nicomachian Ethics, and it will be seen that Ihering’s “fundamental thought” in his workDer Zweck im Recht, vol. i. p. vi., viz.: “that no legal formula exists which does not owe its origin to an end,” is as old as ethics itself.

[17](p. 12). Cases may arise where the consequence of certain efforts remains in doubt, and two courses are open: one presenting the prospect of a greater good but with less probability, the other a lesser good but with a greater probability. In choosing here, account must be taken of the degree of probability. If A is three times better than B, but B has ten times as many chances of being attained as A, then practical wisdom will prefer course B. Supposing that, under like circumstances, such a procedure always takes place, then (in accordance with the law of great numbers) the better would, generally speaking, be realized, a sufficient number of cases being assumed, and so such a manner of choosing would still obviously correspond to the principle laid down in the text, i.e. “Choose the best that is attainable.” The full significance of this remark will be made still more evident in the course of the inquiry.

[18](p. 12). This truth was familiar to Aristotle (cf. e.g.De Anima, iii. 8). The Middle Ages maintained it, but expressed it unfortunately in the proposition:nihil est in intelluctu, quod non prius fuerit in sensu. The notions “willing,” “concluding” are not gained from sensuous perception; the term “sensuous” would in that case have to be taken so generally that all distinction between “sensuous” and “super-sensuous” disappears. These notions have their origin in certain concrete impressions with psychical content (Anschauungen psychischen Inhalts). From the same source arise the notions “end,” “cause” (we observe, for example, a causal relation existing between our belief in the premises and in the conclusion), “impossibility” and “necessity” (we gain these from judgments which accept or reject not merely assertorically, but, as it is usually expressed, apodictically,) and many other notions which some modern philosophers, failing in detecting the true origin of them, have sought to regard as categories givenà priori. I may mention, by the way, that I am well aware Sigwart and others influenced by him have recently questioned the peculiar nature of apodictic as opposed to assertorical judgments. But this is a psychological error which it is not the place to discuss here. Cf. note 27, p. 83 sub.

[19](p. 12). This doctrine in germ is also found in Aristotle; cf. espec.Metaph.: Δ 15, p. 1021 a. 29. This term “intentional,” like many other terms for important notions, comes from the scholastics.

[20](p. 13). The question of the grounds of this division is discussed in more detail in myPsychologie vom empirischen Standpunkte(1874, Bk. ii. chap. vi.; cf. also chap. i. section 5). The statements there made regarding this division I still consider to be substantially correct in spite of many modifications respecting points of detail.

[21](p. 13). Meditat. iii. “Nunc autem ordo videtur exigere, ut prius omnes meas cogitationes (all psychical acts) in certa genera distribuam.... Quaedam ex his tanquam rerum imagines sunt, quibus solis proprie convenitideaenomen, ut cum hominem, vel chimaeram, vel coelum, vel angelum, vel Deum cogito; aliae vero alias quasdam praeterea formas habent, ut cum volo cum timeo, cum affirmo, cum nego, semper quidem aliquam rem ut subjectum meae cogitationis apprehendo, sed aliquid etiam amplius quam istius rei similitudinem cogitatione complector; et ex his aliaevoluntatessiveaffectusaliae autemjudiciaappellantur.”Strangely enough this clear passage has not prevented Windelband (Strassb. philos. Abhandl.p. 171) from ascribing to Descartes the view that the judgment is an act of volition. What led him astray is a discussion in the fourth Meditation on the influence of the will in the formation of judgment. Even scholastics like Suarez had ascribed too much to this influence, and Descartes goes so far in exaggeration of this dependence that he considers every judgment (even the self-evident judgments) as the work of the will. But to “produce the judgment” and “to be the judgment” are yet manifestly not one and the same.And, therefore, although Descartes, in the passage cited, allows his view as to the influence of the will to appear, and probably it is only on this account that he assigns to the judgment the third place in the fundamental classification of psychical phenomena, yet none the less he says without contradiction:aliaevoluntates—aliaejudicia appellantur.More illusive are a couple of passages in his later writings, i.e. in hisPrincipia Philosophiae(i. 32), published three years after the Meditations, and in a work also written three years later: Notae in Programma quoddam, sub finem Anni 1647 in Belgio editum, cum hoc Titulo: Explicatio mentis humanae sive animae rationalis, ubi explicatur quid sit, et quid esse possit.” Particularly might the passage in thePrincipleslead to the opinion that Descartes must have changed his view, and it is astonishing that Windelband has not appealed to this passage rather than to that in the Meditations. We read here:—Ordinesmodi cognitandiquos in nobis experimur,ad duos generalesreferri possunt; quorum unus est,perceptio sive operatio intellectus; alius verovolitio sive operatio voluntatis. Nam sentire, imaginari, et pure intellegere, sunt tantum diversi modi percipiendi;ut et cupere, aversari, affirmare, negare, dubitare, sunt diversi modi volendi.At first sight this passage appears to be so clearly in contradiction to the one in the third Meditation that, as we have said, it is scarcely possible to avoid the supposition that Descartes had meantime rejected his thesis as to the three fundamental classes of psychical phenomena, so shunning Scylla only to plunge into Charybdis; avoiding the old mistake of confusing the judgment with the idea (Vorstellung), he would now seem to confound it with the will. But a more attentive examination of all the circumstances will suffice to exonerate Descartes from such a charge, and this on the following grounds: (1) There is not the slightest sign that Descartes was ever conscious of having become untrue to the view expressed in the Meditations. (2) Further, in the year 1647 (three years after the publication of the Meditations and shortly before writing the Notae to his Programma) the Meditations appeared in a translation revised by Descartes himself, where, remarkably enough, not the slightest alteration is to be found in the decisive passage in the third Meditation.“Entre mes pensées,” it reads, “quelques unes sont commes les images des choses, et c’est à celles-là scules que convient proprement le nom d’idée.... D’autres, outre cela ont quelques autres formes; ... et de ce genre de penséesles unes sont appelées volontés ou affections, et les autres jugements.” (3) In thePrinciplesitself he says directly after (i. No. 42) that all our errors depend upon our will (a voluntate pendere); but so far is he from regarding the “error” as an act of volition, that he says there is no one who errs voluntarily (nemo est qui velit falli). Still clearer is it that he does not regard the judgment like the desires and dislikes as inner activities of the will itself, but only as a product of the will, since he at once adds: sed longe aliud est velle falli quam velle assentiri iis, in quibus contingit errorem reperiri,” etc. He does not say of the will that it desires, affirms, assents, but that it wills the assent; so also, not that itistrue but that it desires the truth (veritatis assequendae cupiditas ...efficit, ut ... judicium ferant).As to Descartes’ real view, therefore, there can be no doubt; his doctrine has not in this respect suffered the slightest change. It only remains, therefore, to come to an understanding of his obviously variable modes of expression, and this is, I believe, solved incontrovertibly in the following manner. Descartes, while regarding will and judgment as two classes differing fundamentally, none the less finds that in contradistinction to the first fundamental class—that of ideas—these have something in common. In the third Meditation he designates (cf. the above passage) as the common element the fact that although essentially based upon an idea, in both alike there is contained a further special form. In the fourth Meditation a further common character appears, i.e. that the will decides concerning them; not only can it determine and suspend its own acts, but also those of the judgment. It is this common character which he was bound to regard as especially, indeed all important, in the first part of thePrinciples, xxix.-xlii. Accordingly, he classes them, in opposition to the ideas (which he calls operationes intellectus) under the term operationes voluntatis. In the Notae to the Programma he calls them distinctly in the same sense, “determinationes voluntatis.” “Ego enim, cum viderem, praeterperceptionem, quae praerequiritur ut judicemus, opus esse affirmatione vel negatione ad formam judicii constituendam,nobisque saepe esse liberum ut cohibeamus assensionem, etiamsi rem percipiamus, ipsum actum judicandi, qui non nisi in assensu, hoc est in affirmatione vel negatione consistit, non retuli ad perceptionem intellectus sed ad determinationem voluntatis.” He does not even hesitate in thePrinciplesto term both these two classes ofmodi cogitandi, “modi volendi” the context seeming sufficiently to indicate that he means only to express thereby the fact that they fall within the domain of the will.In further support of this explanation we may compare the scholastic terminology into which Descartes as a young man was initiated. It was customary to denote under the termactus voluntatisnot merely the movement of the will itself but also the act performed in obedience to the will. In accordance with this custom, theactus voluntatisfell into two classes; theactus elicitus voluntatisand theactus imperatus voluntatis. In a similar manner Descartes groups the class which, according to him, was only possible as anactus imperatusof the will along with hisactus elicitus. There is here, therefore, no question of a common fundamental character of the intentional relation.Clear as all this is to those who carefully attach due weight to the various moments, it would yet appear that Spinoza (probably misled rather by the passage in thePrinciplesthan by that cited by Windelband), anticipates Windelband in this misunderstanding of the Cartesian doctrine. In hisEthics, ii. prop. 49, he actually, and in the most real sense, regards theaffirmatioandnegatioas “volitiones mentis,” and by a further confusion, comes finally to obliterate the distinction between the two classesideaeandvoluntates. “Voluntas et intellectus unum et idem sunt” his thesis now reads, so overthrowing not only the three-fold classification of Descartes, but also the old Aristotelian dual classification. Spinoza has here, as usual, done nothing else than corrupt the teaching of his great master.

Strangely enough this clear passage has not prevented Windelband (Strassb. philos. Abhandl.p. 171) from ascribing to Descartes the view that the judgment is an act of volition. What led him astray is a discussion in the fourth Meditation on the influence of the will in the formation of judgment. Even scholastics like Suarez had ascribed too much to this influence, and Descartes goes so far in exaggeration of this dependence that he considers every judgment (even the self-evident judgments) as the work of the will. But to “produce the judgment” and “to be the judgment” are yet manifestly not one and the same.And, therefore, although Descartes, in the passage cited, allows his view as to the influence of the will to appear, and probably it is only on this account that he assigns to the judgment the third place in the fundamental classification of psychical phenomena, yet none the less he says without contradiction:aliaevoluntates—aliaejudicia appellantur.

More illusive are a couple of passages in his later writings, i.e. in hisPrincipia Philosophiae(i. 32), published three years after the Meditations, and in a work also written three years later: Notae in Programma quoddam, sub finem Anni 1647 in Belgio editum, cum hoc Titulo: Explicatio mentis humanae sive animae rationalis, ubi explicatur quid sit, et quid esse possit.” Particularly might the passage in thePrincipleslead to the opinion that Descartes must have changed his view, and it is astonishing that Windelband has not appealed to this passage rather than to that in the Meditations. We read here:—Ordinesmodi cognitandiquos in nobis experimur,ad duos generalesreferri possunt; quorum unus est,perceptio sive operatio intellectus; alius verovolitio sive operatio voluntatis. Nam sentire, imaginari, et pure intellegere, sunt tantum diversi modi percipiendi;ut et cupere, aversari, affirmare, negare, dubitare, sunt diversi modi volendi.

At first sight this passage appears to be so clearly in contradiction to the one in the third Meditation that, as we have said, it is scarcely possible to avoid the supposition that Descartes had meantime rejected his thesis as to the three fundamental classes of psychical phenomena, so shunning Scylla only to plunge into Charybdis; avoiding the old mistake of confusing the judgment with the idea (Vorstellung), he would now seem to confound it with the will. But a more attentive examination of all the circumstances will suffice to exonerate Descartes from such a charge, and this on the following grounds: (1) There is not the slightest sign that Descartes was ever conscious of having become untrue to the view expressed in the Meditations. (2) Further, in the year 1647 (three years after the publication of the Meditations and shortly before writing the Notae to his Programma) the Meditations appeared in a translation revised by Descartes himself, where, remarkably enough, not the slightest alteration is to be found in the decisive passage in the third Meditation.“Entre mes pensées,” it reads, “quelques unes sont commes les images des choses, et c’est à celles-là scules que convient proprement le nom d’idée.... D’autres, outre cela ont quelques autres formes; ... et de ce genre de penséesles unes sont appelées volontés ou affections, et les autres jugements.” (3) In thePrinciplesitself he says directly after (i. No. 42) that all our errors depend upon our will (a voluntate pendere); but so far is he from regarding the “error” as an act of volition, that he says there is no one who errs voluntarily (nemo est qui velit falli). Still clearer is it that he does not regard the judgment like the desires and dislikes as inner activities of the will itself, but only as a product of the will, since he at once adds: sed longe aliud est velle falli quam velle assentiri iis, in quibus contingit errorem reperiri,” etc. He does not say of the will that it desires, affirms, assents, but that it wills the assent; so also, not that itistrue but that it desires the truth (veritatis assequendae cupiditas ...efficit, ut ... judicium ferant).

As to Descartes’ real view, therefore, there can be no doubt; his doctrine has not in this respect suffered the slightest change. It only remains, therefore, to come to an understanding of his obviously variable modes of expression, and this is, I believe, solved incontrovertibly in the following manner. Descartes, while regarding will and judgment as two classes differing fundamentally, none the less finds that in contradistinction to the first fundamental class—that of ideas—these have something in common. In the third Meditation he designates (cf. the above passage) as the common element the fact that although essentially based upon an idea, in both alike there is contained a further special form. In the fourth Meditation a further common character appears, i.e. that the will decides concerning them; not only can it determine and suspend its own acts, but also those of the judgment. It is this common character which he was bound to regard as especially, indeed all important, in the first part of thePrinciples, xxix.-xlii. Accordingly, he classes them, in opposition to the ideas (which he calls operationes intellectus) under the term operationes voluntatis. In the Notae to the Programma he calls them distinctly in the same sense, “determinationes voluntatis.” “Ego enim, cum viderem, praeterperceptionem, quae praerequiritur ut judicemus, opus esse affirmatione vel negatione ad formam judicii constituendam,nobisque saepe esse liberum ut cohibeamus assensionem, etiamsi rem percipiamus, ipsum actum judicandi, qui non nisi in assensu, hoc est in affirmatione vel negatione consistit, non retuli ad perceptionem intellectus sed ad determinationem voluntatis.” He does not even hesitate in thePrinciplesto term both these two classes ofmodi cogitandi, “modi volendi” the context seeming sufficiently to indicate that he means only to express thereby the fact that they fall within the domain of the will.

In further support of this explanation we may compare the scholastic terminology into which Descartes as a young man was initiated. It was customary to denote under the termactus voluntatisnot merely the movement of the will itself but also the act performed in obedience to the will. In accordance with this custom, theactus voluntatisfell into two classes; theactus elicitus voluntatisand theactus imperatus voluntatis. In a similar manner Descartes groups the class which, according to him, was only possible as anactus imperatusof the will along with hisactus elicitus. There is here, therefore, no question of a common fundamental character of the intentional relation.

Clear as all this is to those who carefully attach due weight to the various moments, it would yet appear that Spinoza (probably misled rather by the passage in thePrinciplesthan by that cited by Windelband), anticipates Windelband in this misunderstanding of the Cartesian doctrine. In hisEthics, ii. prop. 49, he actually, and in the most real sense, regards theaffirmatioandnegatioas “volitiones mentis,” and by a further confusion, comes finally to obliterate the distinction between the two classesideaeandvoluntates. “Voluntas et intellectus unum et idem sunt” his thesis now reads, so overthrowing not only the three-fold classification of Descartes, but also the old Aristotelian dual classification. Spinoza has here, as usual, done nothing else than corrupt the teaching of his great master.

[22](p. 13). I do not mean to say that the classification is, universally recognized to-day. It would not even be possible to regard as certain the Principle of Contradiction if in orderto do so we were to await universal assent. In the present instance it is not difficult to understand that old, deeply-rooted prejudices cannot all at once be banished. But that even under such circumstances it has not been possible to urge a single important objection affords the best confirmation of our doctrine.Some, as for instance, Windelband—while giving up the attempt at including judgment and idea (Vorstellung) inonefundamental class, on the other hand believe it possible to subsume judgment under feeling, thus falling back into the error which Hume committed earlier in his inquiry into the nature of belief. According to these writers, to affirm implies an act of approval, an appreciation on the part of the feelings, while denial is an act of disapproval, a feeling of repugnance.Despite a certain analogy the confusion is hard to understand. There are people who recognize both the goodness of God and the wickedness of the devil, the being of Ormuzd and the being of Ahriman, with an equal degree of conviction, and yet, while prizing the nature of the one above all else, they feel themselves absolutely repelled by that of the other. Since we love knowledge and hate error it is, of course, proper that thosejudgmentswe hold to be right (and this is true of all those judgments which we ourselves make) are for this very reason dear to us, i.e. we estimate them in some way or other through feeling. But who on this account would be misled into regarding the judgments themselves which are loved as acts of loving?. The confusion would be almost as gross as if we should fail to distinguish wife and child, money and possessions, from the activity which is directed towards these, inasmuch they are the objects of affection. Cf. also what has been said (note 21) with regard to Windelband, where, misunderstanding Descartes, he ascribes to him the same teaching; further, note 26 (on the unity of the idea of the good) as well as what is urged by Sigwart in the note (in part much to the point) on Windelband (Logic, vol. i. chap. ii. p. 156 seq.). To those who, despite all that has been said, still wish further arguments for the distinction between the second and third fundamental classes, I may, perhaps, be allowed to refer them, by anticipation, to myDescriptive Psychology, which I have alluded to in the preface as an almost completed work, and whichwill appear if not as a continuation, yet still as a further development of myPsychology from the Empirical Standpoint.As against Windelband, I here add the following observations:1. It is false and a serious oversight, as he himself will be convinced on reading again in myPsychology, vol. i. p. 262, when he (p. 172) makes me assert, and that too as a quotation from my own work, that “love and hate” is not an appropriate term for the third fundamental class.2. It is false, and a quite unjustifiable supposition when (p. 178) he ascribes to me the opinion that the classification of judgments according to quality is the only essential classification belonging to the act of judgment itself. I believe exactly the contrary. I regard, for example (of course in opposition to Windelband), the distinction between assertorical and apodictic judgments (cf. here note 27, p. 83), as also the distinction between self-evident and blind judgments as belonging and highly essential, to the act of judgment itself. Other differences, again, especially the distinction between simple and compound acts of judgment, I might mention. For it is not every compound judgment that can be resolved into quite simple elements, and something similar takes place also in the case of certain notions, a fact known to Aristotle. What is red?—Red colour. What is colour?—The quality of colour. The difference, it is seen, contains in both cases the notion of the genus. The separating of the one logical element from the other is only possible from the one side. A similar one-sided capacity to separate appears also in certain compound judgments. J. S. Mill is, therefore, quite wrong when he (Deductive and Inductive Logic, vol. i. chap. iv. section 3), regards as ridiculous the old classification of judgments into simple and compound, and thinks that the procedure in such a case is exactly as if one should wish to divide horses into single horses and teams of horses; otherwise the same argument would hold good against the classification of conceptions into simple and compound.3. It is false, though an error which finds almost universal acceptance, and one from which I myself at the time of writing the first volume of myPsychologywas not yet free, that the so-called degree of conviction consists in a degree of intensityof the judgment which can be brought into analogy with the intensity of pleasure and pain. Had Windelband charged me withthiserror I would have acknowledged the complete justice of the charge. Instead of this he finds fault with me because I recognize intensity with regard to the judgment, only in a sense analogous, and not identical to that in the case of feeling, and because I assert the impossibility of comparing in respect of magnitude, the supposed intensity of the belief and the real intensity of feeling. Here we have one of the results of his improved theory of judgment!If the degree of conviction of my belief that 2 + 1 = 3 were one of intensity how powerful would this be! And if the said belief were to be identified, as by Windelband (p. 186), with feeling, not merely regarded as analogous to feeling, how destructive to our nervous system would the violence of such a shock to the feelings prove! Every physician would be compelled to warn the public against the study of mathematics as calculated to destroy health. (Cf. with regard to this so-called degree of conviction the view of Henry Newman in his interesting work:An Essay in Aid of a Grammar of Assent—a work scarcely noticed in Germany.)4. When Windelband (p. 183) wonders how I can regard the word “is” in such propositions as “God is,” “A man is” (ein Mensch ist), “A lack is” (ein Mangel ist), “A possibility is,” “A truth is,” (i.e. There is a truth), etc., as having the same meaning and finds it extraordinary (184, note 1) in the author ofVon der mannigfachen Bedeutung des Seienden nach Aristotelesthat he should fail to recognize the manifold significance of “to be,” I can only reply that he who in this view does not perceive the simple consequence of my theory of the judgment can hardly have understood this doctrine. With regard to Aristotle it never occurs to him, while dividing the “ὄν” in the sense of reality into various categories, and into an “ ὂν ὲνεργεία and ὂν δυνάμει”, to do the same with the “ἔστιν” transforming what is the expression of an idea into that of a judgment and the “ὂν ὡς ἀληθές” as he calls it. This could only be done by those who, like Herbart and many others after him, did not know how to hold apart the notionof being in the sense of absolute position and being in the sense of reality (cf. the following note).5. I have just said that there exist simple and compound judgments, and that many a compound judgment is not, without a residue, resolvable into simple judgments. Special attention must be paid to this in seeking to convert judgments otherwise expressed into the existential form. It is self-evident that only simple judgments, i.e. such as are, strictly speaking, without parts, are so convertible. I may therefore be excused for not thinking it necessary to emphasize this expressly in myPsychology. If this restriction hold good universally it is, of course, valid also of the categorical form. In the propositions categorical in form, which the formal logicians have denoted by the signs A.E.I. and O. they wish to express strictly simple judgments. These are therefore one and all convertible into the existential form (cf. myPsychology, vol. i. p. 283). The same, however, will not hold good when propositions categorical in form contain in consequence of an ambiguity of expression (cf. p. 120, note to Appendix) a plurality of judgments. In such a case the existential form may certainly be the expression of a simple judgment equivalent to the compound one, but cannot be the expression of the judgment itself.This is a point which Windelband ought to have considered in examining (p. 184) the proposition: “The rose is a flower” with respect to its convertibility into an existential proposition. He is quite right in protesting against its conversion into the proposition: “There is no rose which is not a flower,” but he is not equally right in ascribing this conversion to me. Neither in the passage cited by him nor elsewhere have I made such a conversion, and I consider it just as false as that attempted by Windelband and all such as may be attempted by anybody else. The judgment here expressed in the proposition is made up of two judgments of which one is the recognition of the subject (whether it be that thereby is meant “rose” in the ordinary sense, or “what is called rose,” “what is understood by rose”), and this, as we have just said, is not always the case where a proposition is given of the form: All A is B.Unfortunately Land also has overlooked this, the only oneamong my critics who has succeeded in comprehending, in their necessary connection with the principle, what Windelband has termed the “mysterious” hints which I have thrown out towards the reform of elementary logic, and in deducing them correctly from it. (Cf. Land, “On a supposed improvement in Formal Logic” in the papers of theKgl. Niederländischen Akademie der Wissenschaften, 1876.)I conclude with a curiosity recently furnished by Steinthal in hisZeitschrift für Völkerpsychologie(chap. xviii. p. 175). I there read with astonishment: “Brentano’s confusion in completely severing judgments from idea and thoughts (!) and grouping the judgments as acts of recognition or rejection, with love and hate (!!) is instantly removed if such (?) a judgment, as an aesthetic judgment is termed “Beurteilen” (!). Probably Steinthal has never once glanced into myPsychology, and has only read Windelband’s statement concerning it; this, however, so hastily that I hope he will not be ungrateful at my sending his lines to Windelband for correction.

Some, as for instance, Windelband—while giving up the attempt at including judgment and idea (Vorstellung) inonefundamental class, on the other hand believe it possible to subsume judgment under feeling, thus falling back into the error which Hume committed earlier in his inquiry into the nature of belief. According to these writers, to affirm implies an act of approval, an appreciation on the part of the feelings, while denial is an act of disapproval, a feeling of repugnance.

Despite a certain analogy the confusion is hard to understand. There are people who recognize both the goodness of God and the wickedness of the devil, the being of Ormuzd and the being of Ahriman, with an equal degree of conviction, and yet, while prizing the nature of the one above all else, they feel themselves absolutely repelled by that of the other. Since we love knowledge and hate error it is, of course, proper that thosejudgmentswe hold to be right (and this is true of all those judgments which we ourselves make) are for this very reason dear to us, i.e. we estimate them in some way or other through feeling. But who on this account would be misled into regarding the judgments themselves which are loved as acts of loving?. The confusion would be almost as gross as if we should fail to distinguish wife and child, money and possessions, from the activity which is directed towards these, inasmuch they are the objects of affection. Cf. also what has been said (note 21) with regard to Windelband, where, misunderstanding Descartes, he ascribes to him the same teaching; further, note 26 (on the unity of the idea of the good) as well as what is urged by Sigwart in the note (in part much to the point) on Windelband (Logic, vol. i. chap. ii. p. 156 seq.). To those who, despite all that has been said, still wish further arguments for the distinction between the second and third fundamental classes, I may, perhaps, be allowed to refer them, by anticipation, to myDescriptive Psychology, which I have alluded to in the preface as an almost completed work, and whichwill appear if not as a continuation, yet still as a further development of myPsychology from the Empirical Standpoint.

As against Windelband, I here add the following observations:

1. It is false and a serious oversight, as he himself will be convinced on reading again in myPsychology, vol. i. p. 262, when he (p. 172) makes me assert, and that too as a quotation from my own work, that “love and hate” is not an appropriate term for the third fundamental class.

2. It is false, and a quite unjustifiable supposition when (p. 178) he ascribes to me the opinion that the classification of judgments according to quality is the only essential classification belonging to the act of judgment itself. I believe exactly the contrary. I regard, for example (of course in opposition to Windelband), the distinction between assertorical and apodictic judgments (cf. here note 27, p. 83), as also the distinction between self-evident and blind judgments as belonging and highly essential, to the act of judgment itself. Other differences, again, especially the distinction between simple and compound acts of judgment, I might mention. For it is not every compound judgment that can be resolved into quite simple elements, and something similar takes place also in the case of certain notions, a fact known to Aristotle. What is red?—Red colour. What is colour?—The quality of colour. The difference, it is seen, contains in both cases the notion of the genus. The separating of the one logical element from the other is only possible from the one side. A similar one-sided capacity to separate appears also in certain compound judgments. J. S. Mill is, therefore, quite wrong when he (Deductive and Inductive Logic, vol. i. chap. iv. section 3), regards as ridiculous the old classification of judgments into simple and compound, and thinks that the procedure in such a case is exactly as if one should wish to divide horses into single horses and teams of horses; otherwise the same argument would hold good against the classification of conceptions into simple and compound.

3. It is false, though an error which finds almost universal acceptance, and one from which I myself at the time of writing the first volume of myPsychologywas not yet free, that the so-called degree of conviction consists in a degree of intensityof the judgment which can be brought into analogy with the intensity of pleasure and pain. Had Windelband charged me withthiserror I would have acknowledged the complete justice of the charge. Instead of this he finds fault with me because I recognize intensity with regard to the judgment, only in a sense analogous, and not identical to that in the case of feeling, and because I assert the impossibility of comparing in respect of magnitude, the supposed intensity of the belief and the real intensity of feeling. Here we have one of the results of his improved theory of judgment!

If the degree of conviction of my belief that 2 + 1 = 3 were one of intensity how powerful would this be! And if the said belief were to be identified, as by Windelband (p. 186), with feeling, not merely regarded as analogous to feeling, how destructive to our nervous system would the violence of such a shock to the feelings prove! Every physician would be compelled to warn the public against the study of mathematics as calculated to destroy health. (Cf. with regard to this so-called degree of conviction the view of Henry Newman in his interesting work:An Essay in Aid of a Grammar of Assent—a work scarcely noticed in Germany.)

4. When Windelband (p. 183) wonders how I can regard the word “is” in such propositions as “God is,” “A man is” (ein Mensch ist), “A lack is” (ein Mangel ist), “A possibility is,” “A truth is,” (i.e. There is a truth), etc., as having the same meaning and finds it extraordinary (184, note 1) in the author ofVon der mannigfachen Bedeutung des Seienden nach Aristotelesthat he should fail to recognize the manifold significance of “to be,” I can only reply that he who in this view does not perceive the simple consequence of my theory of the judgment can hardly have understood this doctrine. With regard to Aristotle it never occurs to him, while dividing the “ὄν” in the sense of reality into various categories, and into an “ ὂν ὲνεργεία and ὂν δυνάμει”, to do the same with the “ἔστιν” transforming what is the expression of an idea into that of a judgment and the “ὂν ὡς ἀληθές” as he calls it. This could only be done by those who, like Herbart and many others after him, did not know how to hold apart the notionof being in the sense of absolute position and being in the sense of reality (cf. the following note).

5. I have just said that there exist simple and compound judgments, and that many a compound judgment is not, without a residue, resolvable into simple judgments. Special attention must be paid to this in seeking to convert judgments otherwise expressed into the existential form. It is self-evident that only simple judgments, i.e. such as are, strictly speaking, without parts, are so convertible. I may therefore be excused for not thinking it necessary to emphasize this expressly in myPsychology. If this restriction hold good universally it is, of course, valid also of the categorical form. In the propositions categorical in form, which the formal logicians have denoted by the signs A.E.I. and O. they wish to express strictly simple judgments. These are therefore one and all convertible into the existential form (cf. myPsychology, vol. i. p. 283). The same, however, will not hold good when propositions categorical in form contain in consequence of an ambiguity of expression (cf. p. 120, note to Appendix) a plurality of judgments. In such a case the existential form may certainly be the expression of a simple judgment equivalent to the compound one, but cannot be the expression of the judgment itself.

This is a point which Windelband ought to have considered in examining (p. 184) the proposition: “The rose is a flower” with respect to its convertibility into an existential proposition. He is quite right in protesting against its conversion into the proposition: “There is no rose which is not a flower,” but he is not equally right in ascribing this conversion to me. Neither in the passage cited by him nor elsewhere have I made such a conversion, and I consider it just as false as that attempted by Windelband and all such as may be attempted by anybody else. The judgment here expressed in the proposition is made up of two judgments of which one is the recognition of the subject (whether it be that thereby is meant “rose” in the ordinary sense, or “what is called rose,” “what is understood by rose”), and this, as we have just said, is not always the case where a proposition is given of the form: All A is B.

Unfortunately Land also has overlooked this, the only oneamong my critics who has succeeded in comprehending, in their necessary connection with the principle, what Windelband has termed the “mysterious” hints which I have thrown out towards the reform of elementary logic, and in deducing them correctly from it. (Cf. Land, “On a supposed improvement in Formal Logic” in the papers of theKgl. Niederländischen Akademie der Wissenschaften, 1876.)

I conclude with a curiosity recently furnished by Steinthal in hisZeitschrift für Völkerpsychologie(chap. xviii. p. 175). I there read with astonishment: “Brentano’s confusion in completely severing judgments from idea and thoughts (!) and grouping the judgments as acts of recognition or rejection, with love and hate (!!) is instantly removed if such (?) a judgment, as an aesthetic judgment is termed “Beurteilen” (!). Probably Steinthal has never once glanced into myPsychology, and has only read Windelband’s statement concerning it; this, however, so hastily that I hope he will not be ungrateful at my sending his lines to Windelband for correction.

[23](p. 14). Miklosich,Subjectlose Sätze, second edition, Vienna, 1883.In order to make the reader familiar with the contents of this valuable little book a notice written at the time for theVienna Evening Postmay prove useful. Through an oversight it was printed as a feuilleton in the Vienna newspaper. As no one certainly would look for it there, I will include it here by way of an appendix. Meantime, Sigwart’s monograph,The Impersonaliahas appeared, in which he opposes Miklosich. Marty has submitted this, as well as (shortly before) the corresponding section in Sigwart’sLogicto a telling criticism in theVierteljahrsschrift für wissenschaftliche Philosopie, with regard to which criticism Sigwart, though without any reasonable ground, has shown himself highly indignant. “Il se fache,” the French say, “donc il a tort.” That Sigwart’s theory in its essential points has not succeeded, even Steinthal really allows, though in hisZeitschrift(chap. xviii. p. 172 seq.) he burns thick clouds of incense to the writer of the monograph, and even in his preface to the fourth edition of hisOrigin of Languageapplauds a formof conduct which every true friend of that deserving man (Sigwart) must regret. After the high praise awarded to him at the outset, one feels somewhat disappointed finally by the criticism. Steinthal rejects (pp. 177-180) Sigwart’s theory on its grammatical side. There would only remain therefore as really successful Sigwart’s psychological theory. But the psychological portion is not that concerning which Steinthal’s estimate is authoritative; for in that case, one would be bound to take seriously the following remark: “In the proposition: “Da bückt sich’s hinunter mit liebendem Blick” (a line from Schiller’sDiver), it is obvious that everybody must think of the king’s daughter, but it is not she which stands before me but a subjectless “sich hinunter-bücken,” and now I have all the more fellow-feeling for her. According to my (Steinthal’s) psychology, I should say the idea of the king’s daughter “fluctuates” (schwingt) but does not enter into consciousness.” This calls for something more than the old saying:Sapienti sat.IThe psychological theory of Sigwart shows itself in all its weakness when he seeks to give an account of the notion of “existence.” It has been already recognized by Aristotle, that this notion is gained by reflection upon the affirmative judgment. But Sigwart, like most modern logicians, neglects to make use of this hint. Instead of saying that to the existent belongs everything of which the affirmative judgment is true, he becomes repeatedly, and once more in the second edition of his logic (pp. 88-95) involved in diffuse discussions upon the notion of being and upon existential propositions, which cannot in any way conduce to clearness, seeing that they move in false directions.“To be,” according to Sigwart, expresses a relation (pp. 88, 95); if it be asked: What kind of a relation? the answer would, at first sight (92), appear to be, a relation to me as thinking. But no; the existential proposition asserts just this: “that the existing also exists, apart from its relation to me and to another thinking being.” It cannot, therefore, be “a relation to me as thinking.” But what other relation can be meant? Not until p. 94 is this brought out more clearly. The relationought to mean (of course he adds “zunächst”, provisionally) the agreement (“identity” ib.) of the thing represented with a possible impression (“einem Wahrnehmbaren” ib. “something which may be perceived by me,” ib. p. 90).Now it will be immediately recognized that this notion of existence is too narrow; for it might very well be asserted that much exists which it is not possible to perceive, e.g. a past and a future, an empty space, and any sort of deficiency, a possibility or impossibility, etc., etc. It is therefore not surprising that Sigwart himself seeks to widen the notion. But he does this in a manner which I find it difficult to understand. At first sight he appears to say in order that something may exist it is not necessary that it can be perceived by me; it is enough if it can be perceived by anybody. Or what else can be meant when Sigwart, after what has just been said, that existence was the agreement of the thing represented with a possible impression, thus continues: “That which exists stands not merelyin this relationto me but to all other existing beings?” It cannot surely mean that Sigwart is inclined to ascribe to every existing being the capacity to receive every impression. It may be he only wishes to say that everything which exists stands to every other existing being in the relation of existence, and then it might be concluded from what immediately follows that this rather meaningless definition is intended to express that existence is the capacity to act or to be acted upon. (“What exists ... stands in causal relations to the rest of the world”; similar also is p. 91, note: the existent is something which “can exercise effects upon me and others.”) Finally, however, there is some ground for thinking Sigwart would say: what exists is that which can be perceived or can be inferred as perceivable, for he adds: “hence (on account of this causal relation) from what isperceivablealso an existence which is merelyinferredmay be asserted.”That all this is equally to be rejected it is not difficult to recognize.For (1) To “infer” the existence of something does not mean so much as “to infer that it is capable of being perceived.” If, for example, the existence of atoms and of empty spacescould be assured by inference, we should still be very far from proving their perceptibility either to ourselves or to some other being. If any one were to conclude the existence of God while giving up the attempt “to give vividness” to the thought by anthropomorphic means, he would not on this account believe that God must be perceptible to one of his creatures or even that he is the object of his own perception.2. From this point of view it would be absurd for any one to say: “I am convinced that there is much the existence of which can neither be perceived at any time or even inferred by anybody.” For that would mean: “I am convinced that much can be perceived or can be inferred to be capable of perception which yet can never be perceived or inferred.” Who does not recognize here how far Sigwart has strayed from the true notion of existence!3. Should Sigwart wish in this passage to widen the notion of existence to such a degree as to think that existence is that which can either be perceived or inferred from some perceivable object, or again, stands in some sort of causal relation to what is perceivable, it might be replied—if indeed such a monstrous notion of existence still require refutation—that even this notion is still too narrow. If, for example, I say: It may be that an empty space exists but this can never with certainty be known by any one, I thereby confess that existence may perhaps belong to empty space; but I deny most definitely that it is perceptible, or that it is to be inferred from that which is perceptible. In regard to relations of cause and effect on the other hand, it is of course impossible that empty space (which is certainly no thing) can stand in such a relation to anything perceivable. We should thus once again arrive at an absurd meaning in interpretation of an assertion in no way absurd.How wrongly Sigwart has analysed the notion of existence is also proved very simply by means of the following proposition: A real centaur does not exist; a centaurin idea, however, certainly exists, and that as often as I imagine it. Whoever does not clearly recognize here the distinction of the “ὂν ὡς ἀληθές i.e. in the sense of existing, from ὂν in the sense of real (wesenhaft) will I fear hardly be brought to recognize it by the fullestillustrations which might be furnished by further examples. We may, however, also consider briefly the following point: According to Sigwart, the knowledge of the existence of anything consists in the knowledge of the agreement of something represented in idea with, let us say, χ, since I do not clearly understand with what. What now is necessary in order to recognize the agreement of something with something else? Manifestly, the knowledge of everything which is required in order that this agreement should really exist. But this requires (1) that the one element exist, (2) that the other element exist, and (3) that between them there exist the relation of identity since what does not exist can be neither like something nor different from it. But the knowledge of the first element constitutes already in itself a knowledge of existence. Hence the knowledge of the two remaining elements is no longer necessary to the recognition of any existence, and Sigwart’s theory leads to a contradiction. (Cf. with what has been said here, Sigwart’s polemic against myPsychology, book ii. chap. vii. in his work;The Impersonalia, p. 50 seq., andLogic, vol. i. second edition, p. 89 seq. note, as well as Marty’s polemic against Sigwart in the articles: “Über Subjectlose Sätze” in theVierteljahrsschrift für wissenschaftliche Philosophie, viii. i. seq.)[A]

[23](p. 14). Miklosich,Subjectlose Sätze, second edition, Vienna, 1883.

In order to make the reader familiar with the contents of this valuable little book a notice written at the time for theVienna Evening Postmay prove useful. Through an oversight it was printed as a feuilleton in the Vienna newspaper. As no one certainly would look for it there, I will include it here by way of an appendix. Meantime, Sigwart’s monograph,The Impersonaliahas appeared, in which he opposes Miklosich. Marty has submitted this, as well as (shortly before) the corresponding section in Sigwart’sLogicto a telling criticism in theVierteljahrsschrift für wissenschaftliche Philosopie, with regard to which criticism Sigwart, though without any reasonable ground, has shown himself highly indignant. “Il se fache,” the French say, “donc il a tort.” That Sigwart’s theory in its essential points has not succeeded, even Steinthal really allows, though in hisZeitschrift(chap. xviii. p. 172 seq.) he burns thick clouds of incense to the writer of the monograph, and even in his preface to the fourth edition of hisOrigin of Languageapplauds a formof conduct which every true friend of that deserving man (Sigwart) must regret. After the high praise awarded to him at the outset, one feels somewhat disappointed finally by the criticism. Steinthal rejects (pp. 177-180) Sigwart’s theory on its grammatical side. There would only remain therefore as really successful Sigwart’s psychological theory. But the psychological portion is not that concerning which Steinthal’s estimate is authoritative; for in that case, one would be bound to take seriously the following remark: “In the proposition: “Da bückt sich’s hinunter mit liebendem Blick” (a line from Schiller’sDiver), it is obvious that everybody must think of the king’s daughter, but it is not she which stands before me but a subjectless “sich hinunter-bücken,” and now I have all the more fellow-feeling for her. According to my (Steinthal’s) psychology, I should say the idea of the king’s daughter “fluctuates” (schwingt) but does not enter into consciousness.” This calls for something more than the old saying:Sapienti sat.

The psychological theory of Sigwart shows itself in all its weakness when he seeks to give an account of the notion of “existence.” It has been already recognized by Aristotle, that this notion is gained by reflection upon the affirmative judgment. But Sigwart, like most modern logicians, neglects to make use of this hint. Instead of saying that to the existent belongs everything of which the affirmative judgment is true, he becomes repeatedly, and once more in the second edition of his logic (pp. 88-95) involved in diffuse discussions upon the notion of being and upon existential propositions, which cannot in any way conduce to clearness, seeing that they move in false directions.

“To be,” according to Sigwart, expresses a relation (pp. 88, 95); if it be asked: What kind of a relation? the answer would, at first sight (92), appear to be, a relation to me as thinking. But no; the existential proposition asserts just this: “that the existing also exists, apart from its relation to me and to another thinking being.” It cannot, therefore, be “a relation to me as thinking.” But what other relation can be meant? Not until p. 94 is this brought out more clearly. The relationought to mean (of course he adds “zunächst”, provisionally) the agreement (“identity” ib.) of the thing represented with a possible impression (“einem Wahrnehmbaren” ib. “something which may be perceived by me,” ib. p. 90).

Now it will be immediately recognized that this notion of existence is too narrow; for it might very well be asserted that much exists which it is not possible to perceive, e.g. a past and a future, an empty space, and any sort of deficiency, a possibility or impossibility, etc., etc. It is therefore not surprising that Sigwart himself seeks to widen the notion. But he does this in a manner which I find it difficult to understand. At first sight he appears to say in order that something may exist it is not necessary that it can be perceived by me; it is enough if it can be perceived by anybody. Or what else can be meant when Sigwart, after what has just been said, that existence was the agreement of the thing represented with a possible impression, thus continues: “That which exists stands not merelyin this relationto me but to all other existing beings?” It cannot surely mean that Sigwart is inclined to ascribe to every existing being the capacity to receive every impression. It may be he only wishes to say that everything which exists stands to every other existing being in the relation of existence, and then it might be concluded from what immediately follows that this rather meaningless definition is intended to express that existence is the capacity to act or to be acted upon. (“What exists ... stands in causal relations to the rest of the world”; similar also is p. 91, note: the existent is something which “can exercise effects upon me and others.”) Finally, however, there is some ground for thinking Sigwart would say: what exists is that which can be perceived or can be inferred as perceivable, for he adds: “hence (on account of this causal relation) from what isperceivablealso an existence which is merelyinferredmay be asserted.”

That all this is equally to be rejected it is not difficult to recognize.

For (1) To “infer” the existence of something does not mean so much as “to infer that it is capable of being perceived.” If, for example, the existence of atoms and of empty spacescould be assured by inference, we should still be very far from proving their perceptibility either to ourselves or to some other being. If any one were to conclude the existence of God while giving up the attempt “to give vividness” to the thought by anthropomorphic means, he would not on this account believe that God must be perceptible to one of his creatures or even that he is the object of his own perception.

2. From this point of view it would be absurd for any one to say: “I am convinced that there is much the existence of which can neither be perceived at any time or even inferred by anybody.” For that would mean: “I am convinced that much can be perceived or can be inferred to be capable of perception which yet can never be perceived or inferred.” Who does not recognize here how far Sigwart has strayed from the true notion of existence!

3. Should Sigwart wish in this passage to widen the notion of existence to such a degree as to think that existence is that which can either be perceived or inferred from some perceivable object, or again, stands in some sort of causal relation to what is perceivable, it might be replied—if indeed such a monstrous notion of existence still require refutation—that even this notion is still too narrow. If, for example, I say: It may be that an empty space exists but this can never with certainty be known by any one, I thereby confess that existence may perhaps belong to empty space; but I deny most definitely that it is perceptible, or that it is to be inferred from that which is perceptible. In regard to relations of cause and effect on the other hand, it is of course impossible that empty space (which is certainly no thing) can stand in such a relation to anything perceivable. We should thus once again arrive at an absurd meaning in interpretation of an assertion in no way absurd.

How wrongly Sigwart has analysed the notion of existence is also proved very simply by means of the following proposition: A real centaur does not exist; a centaurin idea, however, certainly exists, and that as often as I imagine it. Whoever does not clearly recognize here the distinction of the “ὂν ὡς ἀληθές i.e. in the sense of existing, from ὂν in the sense of real (wesenhaft) will I fear hardly be brought to recognize it by the fullestillustrations which might be furnished by further examples. We may, however, also consider briefly the following point: According to Sigwart, the knowledge of the existence of anything consists in the knowledge of the agreement of something represented in idea with, let us say, χ, since I do not clearly understand with what. What now is necessary in order to recognize the agreement of something with something else? Manifestly, the knowledge of everything which is required in order that this agreement should really exist. But this requires (1) that the one element exist, (2) that the other element exist, and (3) that between them there exist the relation of identity since what does not exist can be neither like something nor different from it. But the knowledge of the first element constitutes already in itself a knowledge of existence. Hence the knowledge of the two remaining elements is no longer necessary to the recognition of any existence, and Sigwart’s theory leads to a contradiction. (Cf. with what has been said here, Sigwart’s polemic against myPsychology, book ii. chap. vii. in his work;The Impersonalia, p. 50 seq., andLogic, vol. i. second edition, p. 89 seq. note, as well as Marty’s polemic against Sigwart in the articles: “Über Subjectlose Sätze” in theVierteljahrsschrift für wissenschaftliche Philosophie, viii. i. seq.)[A]

[A]I had already written my Critique of Sigwart’s notion of existence when I became aware of a note in hisLogic, second ed, p. 390, a passage which, while it has not made it necessary to alter anything which I had written, has led me to insert it for the purpose of comparison. “Das Seiende überhaupt,” Sigwart writes, “kann nicht als wahrer Gattungsbegriff zu dem einzelnen Seienden betrachtet werden; es ist, begrifflich betrachtet, nur ein gemeinschaftlicher Name. Denn, da ‘Sein’ für uns ein Relationsprädikat ist, kann es kein gemeinschaftliches Merkmal sein, es müsste denn gezeigt werden, dass dieses Prädikat in einer dem Begriffe alles Seienden gemeinsamen Bestimmung wurzle.” I fear that the reader will, just as little as myself, attain by this explanation to clearness concerning Sigwart’s notion of existence. He will perhaps the better understand why all my efforts regarding it have proved futile.II.As Sigwart has failed to grasp the nature of judgment in general he is not, of course, able to understand that of thenegativejudgment in particular. He has gone so far in error as to deny to it an equal right as species along with the positive judgment;no negative judgment is, he thinks, a direct judgment, its object is rather always another actual judgment or the attempt to form such a judgment.In this assertion Sigwart is opposed to some important psychological views which I have made good in my lecture. It would therefore seem fitting to resist his attack. For this purpose I shall show: (1) that Sigwart’s doctrine is badly founded; (2) that it leads to an irremediable confusion, as in that case Sigwart’s affirmative judgment is a negative judgment, while his negative judgment if indeed a judgment at all, and not rather the absence of one, is a positive judgment, and that moreover his positive judgment really involves a negative one, along with other similar confusions. (3) Finally I think it will be possible—thanks to Sigwart’s detailed explanations—to show the genesis of his error.1. The first inquiry in the case of an assertion so novel and so widely diverging from the general view, will be as to its foundation. With regard to this, he insists above all (p. 150) that the negative judgment would have no meaning if the thought of the positive attribution of a predicate had not preceded. But what can this mean? Either there is here a clearpetitio principii, or it cannot mean anything more than that a connection of ideas must have preceded. Now granting this for a moment (although I have in myPsychologyshown its falsity) this would by no means prove his proposition, since Sigwart himself recognizes (p. 89 note, and elsewhere) that such a “subjective connexion of ideas” would still not be a judgment; that there needs rather to be added to it a certain feeling of constraint.An argument follows later (p. 151) the logical connexion of which I understand just as little. It is rightly observed that in and for itself we have the right to deny of anything an infinite number of predicates, and it is with equal right added that in spite of this, we do not really pass all these negative judgments. And now what conclusion is drawn from these premisses? Perhaps this, that the fact that a certain negative judgment is warranted is not sufficient in itself to explain the entrance of the judgment. This we may without hesitation admit. But Sigwart concludes quite otherwise; he permits himself to assert,it follows from this that the further condition which is here lacking is that the corresponding positive affirmation has not yet been attempted. This is indeed a bold leap, and one which my logic at least is not able to follow. And why, if one were to inquire further, are not all the positive judgments here concerned really attempted? The most probable answer, judging by the examples given by Sigwart (this stone reads, writes, sings, composes; justice is blue, green, heptagonal, rotating), is, that this has not been done because the negative judgment has already been made with evident certainty; for this would best explain why there is no “danger of any one attributing these predicates to the stone or to justice.” If, however, any one prefer to answer that “the narrowness of consciousness” makes it impossible to attempt at the same time an infinite number of positive judgments, I am content with this expedient also, only it must then be asked if this appeal ought not to have been made directly and earlier, since Sigwart himself calls the possible negative judgments an “immeasurablequantity.”It is also a curious error (Marty has already called attention to it), when Sigwart asserts that in contradistinction to what holds good of the negative judgment “every subject admits only of a limited number of predicates being affirmed.” But why? Can we not, for example, say a whole hour is greater than half an hour, greater than a third, greater than a fourth and so onad infin.?... If then, notwithstanding, I do not really make all these judgments, there are evidently good reasons for this; above all that the “narrowness of consciousness” forbids it. But then this might also be applied most successfully in regard to negative judgments.Somewhat later we meet a third argument which, as I have already by anticipation refuted it in myPsychology(book ii. chap. 7, section v.), will be treated quite shortly here. If the negative judgment were a direct one, co-ordinated with the affirmative judgment as species then, thinks Sigwart (p. 155 seq.), whoever in an affirmative categorical proposition regards the affirmation of the subject as involved must, to be consistent, regard the denial of the subject as involved in the negative proposition, which is not the case. The latter observation is correct, theformer assertion, however, quite untenable, as it involves in itself a contradiction. For exactly because the existence of each part in a whole is involved in the existence of the whole, the whole no longer exists if but one of its parts is missing.It only remains now to consider a point of language by which Sigwart believes himself able to support his view. A testimony for it is, he thinks, to be found in the fact that the symbol for the negative judgment is formed in every case by means of a combination with the symbol of affirmation, the word “not” being added to the copula. In order to judge what is here actually the fact, we will glance for a moment at the sphere of feeling. Sigwart agrees, I think, with me and everybody else that pleasing and displeasing, rejoicing and sorrowing, loving and hating, etc., are co-ordinate with each other. Yet a complete series of expressions denoting a disinclination of feeling are found in dependence upon the expression for the corresponding inclination. For example, inclination, disinclination; pleasure, displeasure; ease, disease; Wille, Widerwille; froh, unfroh; happy, unhappy; beautiful, unbeautiful; pleasant, unpleasant;—even “ungut” is used. The explanation of this is, I believe, not difficult for the psychologist, notwithstanding the equally primordial character of these opposite modes of feeling. Ought then the explanation of the phenomenon lying before us in the expression of the negative judgment, closely related as it is to the before mentioned phenomenon, to be really so very difficult, even assuming the primordial character?As a matter of fact the case must be very bad when thinkers like Sigwart in making statements so important in principle, and at the same time so unusual, have to resort to arguments so weak.2. The grounds on which Sigwart’s doctrine concerning the negative judgment rest have, therefore, each and all proved untenable. This must be so; for how could the truth of any doctrine be shown which would plunge everything into the greatest confusion?Sigwart finds himself compelled to distinguish between the positive and the affirmative judgment, and the affirmative judgment—one hears and wonders at the new terminology—is according to him, closely examined, a negative judgment. On page 150 he says literally: “The primordial judgment can certainly not be termed the affirmative judgment, but is better described as the positive judgment, for only in opposition to the negative judgment, andin so far as it rejectsthe possibility of a negation, is the simple statement A is B an affirmation,” and so on. Inasmuch as it “rejects.” What else can that mean than “so far as it denies”? As a matter of fact only those negations can, according to this new and extraordinary use of language, be called affirmations! Yet this would really mean, and particularly when it is said that the proposition A is Bisoften such a negation (cf. the expressions just quoted), that the use of language would be reduced to a confusion quite unnecessary and altogether unendurable.Not only is the affirmation—as set forth—according to Sigwart really a negation but also, paradoxical as it may seem, the negation, on close consideration, proves to be a positive judgment. It is true, Sigwart protests against those who, like Hobbes, would regard all negatives as affirmative judgments with negative predicates. But, following Sigwart, if this is not so, then these must be affirmative judgments with affirmative predicates, since he teaches that the subject is in every case a judgment, the predicate being the notion of invalidity. On p. 160 he says in the note the negation does away with a supposition, denies the validity, and this expression, considered in itself, might be taken to mean that Sigwart assumes here a special function of denial (absprechen) the contrary of that of affirmation (zusprechen). But no; a negative copula (cf. p. 153) according to him there is not.Now what in the world is one to understand by “denial” (absprechen)? Does it mean the simple suppression (Aufhörenlassen) of the positive judgment upon the given subject matter, that is, according to Sigwart, the falling away of the feeling of compulsion previously given in a connexion between ideas? This is impossible, since the removal of this would bring about a condition in which the connexion of ideas remains, without being either affirmed or denied. How often does something of which we were previously certain become uncertain withoutour on this account denying it. What then is this denying? May we perhaps say that according to Sigwart it is a feeling oneself compelled (sich-genötigt-fühlen) to annul, whereas affirming is a feeling oneself compelled to posit? We should then have to say that all the while we are passing a negative judgment, we are in reality always seeking to pass a positive judgment, but that we experience a hindrance in so doing. The same consciousness, however, is felt by one who is clearly aware of the entire absence of a positive ground. For how can any one succeed in believing anything which he at the same time holds to be entirely ungrounded? Of no one, especially if Sigwart’s definition of the judgment be applied as the standard, is this conceivable; that is to say, every one in such a case will experience failure in such an attempt. Accordingly there is, as yet, no negative judgment. If then the rejection does not signify a negative copula it must manifestly be regarded as an instance of the affirmation of the predicate “false,” or (to use Sigwart’s term) as its “identification” with the judgment which in this case should be the subject. This “false” also cannot simply mean “untrue,” for I can assert “untrue” of thousands of things with regard to which the predicate “false,” which appears in certain judgments, would not be in place. If only judgments are true, then of everything which is not a judgment the predicate “untrue” must be affirmed, though certainly not on that account the predicate “false.” “False” must therefore be regarded as a positive predicate; and so from Sigwart’s point of view absolutely false in principle, certain as it is that the merely not being convinced (nicht-überzeugt-sein) is no denial, it is equally certain that we have actually no choice; we should be compelled to regard every negative judgment as a positive judgment with a positive predicate. So we arrive at a second and greater paradox.But here a third factor enters which completes the confusion. If we examine Sigwart’s view as to the nature of judgment in general, it may be shown in the clearest manner possible that the simple positive judgment itself involves in turn, a negative judgment. That is to say, following Sigwart, every judgment involves besides a certain combination of ideas, a consciousnessof the necessity of our “identification” (unseres Einssetzens) and the impossibility of its contradictory (cf. espec. p. 102), the consciousness, moreover, of such a necessity and impossibility valid for all thinking beings (cf. pp. 102 and 107), which, by the way, is of course quite as false as Sigwart’s whole view of the nature of judgment in general. All judgments without exception are, on account of this peculiarity, called by Sigwart apodictic: nor will he admit the validity of any distinction between the assertorical and apodictic forms of judgment (cf. p. 229 seq.). I now ask: Have we not here a negative judgment distinctly involved? Otherwise what meaning can be given to the statement when we hear Sigwart speak of a “consciousness of the impossibility of the contradictory.” Further I have already shown in myPsychologyhow all universal judgments are negative, since to be conscious of universality means nothing else than to be convinced that there exists no exception; if this negative be not added, the most extensive list of positive assertions will never constitute a belief in universality. When therefore, a consciousness that every one must so think is here spoken of, there is in this fact a further proof of what I have asserted, namely that according to Sigwart’s doctrine of judgment the simplest positive acts of judgment must involve a negative act of judgment. And yet we are called upon at the same time to believe that the negative judgment, as set forth (p. 159 seq.), arose relatively late, and that therefore on this, as well as on other grounds, it is unworthy of being placed side by side, with the positive judgment as a species equally primordial! Sigwart would surely not have expected this of us had he been conscious of all that I have here set forth in detail, and which is the more clearly seen to be involved in his exposition, often so difficult to comprehend the more carefully it is submitted to reflection. Of course expressions may be found where Sigwart, respecting this or that point of detail, asserts the contrary of what is here deduced; for what else can be expected where everything is left in such ambiguity, and where the attempt to make things clear exhibits the most manifold contradictions?3. Finally, we have still to show the genesis of the error in which this able logician has involved himself in a relativelysimple question after having once mistaken the nature of the judgment. Theproton pseudosis to be sought in a delusion which has come down to us from the older logic that to the essence of the judgment there belongs the relation of two ideas with one another. Aristotle has described this relation as combination and separation (σύνθεσις καἰ διαίρεσις) although he was well aware of the imperfect propriety of the expressions, adding at the same time that in a certain sense both relations might be described as a combination (σύνθεσις, cf.de Anima, iii. 6). Scholastic and modern logic held fast to the expressions “combination” and “separation”; in grammar, however, both these relations were termed “combination,” and the symbol for this combination the “copula.” Sigwart now takes seriously the expressions “combination” and “separation,” and so a negative copula seems to him a contradiction (cf. p. 153), the positive judgment, on the other hand, appears to be a presupposition of the negative judgment, since, before a combination has been set up, it cannot be separated. And so it appears to him that a negative judgment without a preceding positive judgment is quite meaningless (cf. p. 150 and above). Consequently we find this celebrated inquirer in a position which compels him to put forth the most strenuous efforts all to no purpose—the negative judgment remains inexplicable.In a note (p. 159) he gives us, as a result of such attempts, a remarkable description of the process by which we arrive at the negative judgment—a result in which he believes himself finally able to rest satisfied. In this account the false steps which he successively makes become, each in turn, evident to the attentive observer. Long before the point is reached where he believes himself to have come upon the negative judgment, he has as a matter of fact already anticipated it.He sets out with the correct observation that the first judgments which we make are all positive in character. These judgments are evident and made with full confidence. “Now, however,” he continues, “our thought goes out beyond the given; by the aid of recollections and associations, judgments arise which are at first also formed in the belief that they express reality” (which means, according to other expressions of Sigwart,that the ideas are combined with the consciousness of objective validity; for this (xiv. p. 98) belongs to the essence of the judgment) “as, for example, when we expect to find something with which we are acquainted in its usual place or pre-suppose respecting a flower that it smells. Now, however, a part of what is thus supposedcontradictsour immediate knowledge.” (We leave Sigwart to show here how we are able to recognize anything as “contradictory” when we are not as yet in possession of negative judgments and negative notions. The difficulty becomes still more sharply apparent as he proceeds:) “when we donot findwhat we expected, we become conscious of thedifferencebetween what existsmerelyin idea and what is real.” (What does “not find” mean here? I had not found it previously; obviously I now find that what was erroneously supposed to be associated with another object iswithoutit, and this I can only do by recognizing the one and denying the other, i.e. recognize it asnotbeing with it. Further what is meant here by “difference”? To recognize difference means to recognize that of two things the one isnotthe other. What is meant by existing “merely in idea”? Manifestly, “what exists in idea which isnotat the same time also real.” It would seem, however, that Sigwart is still unaware that in what he is describing the negative function of the judgment is already more than once involved. He continues:) “That of which we are immediately certain isanotherthan that” (i.e. it is not the same, it is indeed absolutely incompatible with that) “which we have judged in anticipation, and now” (i.e. after and since we have already passed all these negative judgments) “appears the negation which annuls the supposition and denies of it validity.And here a new attitude is involved in so far as the subjective combination is separated from the consciousness of certainty.The subjective combination is compared with one bearing the stamp of certainty, its distinction therefrom recognized, and out of this arises the notion of invalidity.” This last would almost seem to be a carelessness of expression, for if invalid were to mean as much as “false” and not “uncertain” it could not be derived from the distinction between a combination with and a combination without certainty, but only from the opposition existing betweencombination which is denied and one which is affirmed. As a matter of fact, the opposite affirmative judgment is not at all necessary to it. The opposition, the incompatibility of the qualities in a real, is already evident on the ground of the combination of ideas representing the opposite qualities which, as I repeat once more, cannot, according to Sigwart himself (p. 89 note; and p. 98 seq.), be called an attempt at positive judgment. Although this may now and again happen in the case of contradictory ideas, it certainly does not happen always. If, for example, the question is put to me: Does there exist a regular chiliagon with 1001 sides? then—assuming that I am not perfectly clear in my own mind, as will be the case with most men, that there does exist a regular chiliagon, I certainly do not attempt to form a judgment (i.e. according to Sigwart, confidently assume) that there exists a regular chiliagon having 1001 sides before forming the negative judgment that no such figure exists on the ground of the opposition between the qualities.Sigwart himself, as his language frequently betrays (cf. e.g. pp. 152 and 150) recognizes at bottom, as he is bound to recognize, in spite of his attack upon the negative copula, that negation and denial are just as much a special function of the judgment as affirmation and recognition. If this be granted, then the range of their application is by no means so limited as he erroneously asserts. It is false that in every case where a denial takes place the predicate denied is the notion “valid.” Even of a judgment we may deny now its validity, now its certainty, now itsà prioricharacter. And just in the same way the subject of the judgment can change most frequently. Of a judgment we may deny certainty, and validity; of a request, modesty; and so in every case, universally expressed, we may deny B of A. Sigwart himself, of course, does this just like any one else. Indeed he sometimes speaks unintentionally far more correctly than his theory would admit, and witnesses, as it were, instinctively to the truth; as, e.g. p. 151, where he declares not—as he elsewhere teaches—that the subject of a negative proposition is always a judgment, and its predicatethe term “valid,” but “that ofevery subject...a countlessnumber of predicates may be denied.” This is certainly true and just on this account the old doctrine holds that affirmation and denial are equally primordial species.

II.

As Sigwart has failed to grasp the nature of judgment in general he is not, of course, able to understand that of thenegativejudgment in particular. He has gone so far in error as to deny to it an equal right as species along with the positive judgment;no negative judgment is, he thinks, a direct judgment, its object is rather always another actual judgment or the attempt to form such a judgment.

In this assertion Sigwart is opposed to some important psychological views which I have made good in my lecture. It would therefore seem fitting to resist his attack. For this purpose I shall show: (1) that Sigwart’s doctrine is badly founded; (2) that it leads to an irremediable confusion, as in that case Sigwart’s affirmative judgment is a negative judgment, while his negative judgment if indeed a judgment at all, and not rather the absence of one, is a positive judgment, and that moreover his positive judgment really involves a negative one, along with other similar confusions. (3) Finally I think it will be possible—thanks to Sigwart’s detailed explanations—to show the genesis of his error.

1. The first inquiry in the case of an assertion so novel and so widely diverging from the general view, will be as to its foundation. With regard to this, he insists above all (p. 150) that the negative judgment would have no meaning if the thought of the positive attribution of a predicate had not preceded. But what can this mean? Either there is here a clearpetitio principii, or it cannot mean anything more than that a connection of ideas must have preceded. Now granting this for a moment (although I have in myPsychologyshown its falsity) this would by no means prove his proposition, since Sigwart himself recognizes (p. 89 note, and elsewhere) that such a “subjective connexion of ideas” would still not be a judgment; that there needs rather to be added to it a certain feeling of constraint.

An argument follows later (p. 151) the logical connexion of which I understand just as little. It is rightly observed that in and for itself we have the right to deny of anything an infinite number of predicates, and it is with equal right added that in spite of this, we do not really pass all these negative judgments. And now what conclusion is drawn from these premisses? Perhaps this, that the fact that a certain negative judgment is warranted is not sufficient in itself to explain the entrance of the judgment. This we may without hesitation admit. But Sigwart concludes quite otherwise; he permits himself to assert,it follows from this that the further condition which is here lacking is that the corresponding positive affirmation has not yet been attempted. This is indeed a bold leap, and one which my logic at least is not able to follow. And why, if one were to inquire further, are not all the positive judgments here concerned really attempted? The most probable answer, judging by the examples given by Sigwart (this stone reads, writes, sings, composes; justice is blue, green, heptagonal, rotating), is, that this has not been done because the negative judgment has already been made with evident certainty; for this would best explain why there is no “danger of any one attributing these predicates to the stone or to justice.” If, however, any one prefer to answer that “the narrowness of consciousness” makes it impossible to attempt at the same time an infinite number of positive judgments, I am content with this expedient also, only it must then be asked if this appeal ought not to have been made directly and earlier, since Sigwart himself calls the possible negative judgments an “immeasurablequantity.”

It is also a curious error (Marty has already called attention to it), when Sigwart asserts that in contradistinction to what holds good of the negative judgment “every subject admits only of a limited number of predicates being affirmed.” But why? Can we not, for example, say a whole hour is greater than half an hour, greater than a third, greater than a fourth and so onad infin.?... If then, notwithstanding, I do not really make all these judgments, there are evidently good reasons for this; above all that the “narrowness of consciousness” forbids it. But then this might also be applied most successfully in regard to negative judgments.

Somewhat later we meet a third argument which, as I have already by anticipation refuted it in myPsychology(book ii. chap. 7, section v.), will be treated quite shortly here. If the negative judgment were a direct one, co-ordinated with the affirmative judgment as species then, thinks Sigwart (p. 155 seq.), whoever in an affirmative categorical proposition regards the affirmation of the subject as involved must, to be consistent, regard the denial of the subject as involved in the negative proposition, which is not the case. The latter observation is correct, theformer assertion, however, quite untenable, as it involves in itself a contradiction. For exactly because the existence of each part in a whole is involved in the existence of the whole, the whole no longer exists if but one of its parts is missing.

It only remains now to consider a point of language by which Sigwart believes himself able to support his view. A testimony for it is, he thinks, to be found in the fact that the symbol for the negative judgment is formed in every case by means of a combination with the symbol of affirmation, the word “not” being added to the copula. In order to judge what is here actually the fact, we will glance for a moment at the sphere of feeling. Sigwart agrees, I think, with me and everybody else that pleasing and displeasing, rejoicing and sorrowing, loving and hating, etc., are co-ordinate with each other. Yet a complete series of expressions denoting a disinclination of feeling are found in dependence upon the expression for the corresponding inclination. For example, inclination, disinclination; pleasure, displeasure; ease, disease; Wille, Widerwille; froh, unfroh; happy, unhappy; beautiful, unbeautiful; pleasant, unpleasant;—even “ungut” is used. The explanation of this is, I believe, not difficult for the psychologist, notwithstanding the equally primordial character of these opposite modes of feeling. Ought then the explanation of the phenomenon lying before us in the expression of the negative judgment, closely related as it is to the before mentioned phenomenon, to be really so very difficult, even assuming the primordial character?

As a matter of fact the case must be very bad when thinkers like Sigwart in making statements so important in principle, and at the same time so unusual, have to resort to arguments so weak.

2. The grounds on which Sigwart’s doctrine concerning the negative judgment rest have, therefore, each and all proved untenable. This must be so; for how could the truth of any doctrine be shown which would plunge everything into the greatest confusion?

Sigwart finds himself compelled to distinguish between the positive and the affirmative judgment, and the affirmative judgment—one hears and wonders at the new terminology—is according to him, closely examined, a negative judgment. On page 150 he says literally: “The primordial judgment can certainly not be termed the affirmative judgment, but is better described as the positive judgment, for only in opposition to the negative judgment, andin so far as it rejectsthe possibility of a negation, is the simple statement A is B an affirmation,” and so on. Inasmuch as it “rejects.” What else can that mean than “so far as it denies”? As a matter of fact only those negations can, according to this new and extraordinary use of language, be called affirmations! Yet this would really mean, and particularly when it is said that the proposition A is Bisoften such a negation (cf. the expressions just quoted), that the use of language would be reduced to a confusion quite unnecessary and altogether unendurable.

Not only is the affirmation—as set forth—according to Sigwart really a negation but also, paradoxical as it may seem, the negation, on close consideration, proves to be a positive judgment. It is true, Sigwart protests against those who, like Hobbes, would regard all negatives as affirmative judgments with negative predicates. But, following Sigwart, if this is not so, then these must be affirmative judgments with affirmative predicates, since he teaches that the subject is in every case a judgment, the predicate being the notion of invalidity. On p. 160 he says in the note the negation does away with a supposition, denies the validity, and this expression, considered in itself, might be taken to mean that Sigwart assumes here a special function of denial (absprechen) the contrary of that of affirmation (zusprechen). But no; a negative copula (cf. p. 153) according to him there is not.

Now what in the world is one to understand by “denial” (absprechen)? Does it mean the simple suppression (Aufhörenlassen) of the positive judgment upon the given subject matter, that is, according to Sigwart, the falling away of the feeling of compulsion previously given in a connexion between ideas? This is impossible, since the removal of this would bring about a condition in which the connexion of ideas remains, without being either affirmed or denied. How often does something of which we were previously certain become uncertain withoutour on this account denying it. What then is this denying? May we perhaps say that according to Sigwart it is a feeling oneself compelled (sich-genötigt-fühlen) to annul, whereas affirming is a feeling oneself compelled to posit? We should then have to say that all the while we are passing a negative judgment, we are in reality always seeking to pass a positive judgment, but that we experience a hindrance in so doing. The same consciousness, however, is felt by one who is clearly aware of the entire absence of a positive ground. For how can any one succeed in believing anything which he at the same time holds to be entirely ungrounded? Of no one, especially if Sigwart’s definition of the judgment be applied as the standard, is this conceivable; that is to say, every one in such a case will experience failure in such an attempt. Accordingly there is, as yet, no negative judgment. If then the rejection does not signify a negative copula it must manifestly be regarded as an instance of the affirmation of the predicate “false,” or (to use Sigwart’s term) as its “identification” with the judgment which in this case should be the subject. This “false” also cannot simply mean “untrue,” for I can assert “untrue” of thousands of things with regard to which the predicate “false,” which appears in certain judgments, would not be in place. If only judgments are true, then of everything which is not a judgment the predicate “untrue” must be affirmed, though certainly not on that account the predicate “false.” “False” must therefore be regarded as a positive predicate; and so from Sigwart’s point of view absolutely false in principle, certain as it is that the merely not being convinced (nicht-überzeugt-sein) is no denial, it is equally certain that we have actually no choice; we should be compelled to regard every negative judgment as a positive judgment with a positive predicate. So we arrive at a second and greater paradox.

But here a third factor enters which completes the confusion. If we examine Sigwart’s view as to the nature of judgment in general, it may be shown in the clearest manner possible that the simple positive judgment itself involves in turn, a negative judgment. That is to say, following Sigwart, every judgment involves besides a certain combination of ideas, a consciousnessof the necessity of our “identification” (unseres Einssetzens) and the impossibility of its contradictory (cf. espec. p. 102), the consciousness, moreover, of such a necessity and impossibility valid for all thinking beings (cf. pp. 102 and 107), which, by the way, is of course quite as false as Sigwart’s whole view of the nature of judgment in general. All judgments without exception are, on account of this peculiarity, called by Sigwart apodictic: nor will he admit the validity of any distinction between the assertorical and apodictic forms of judgment (cf. p. 229 seq.). I now ask: Have we not here a negative judgment distinctly involved? Otherwise what meaning can be given to the statement when we hear Sigwart speak of a “consciousness of the impossibility of the contradictory.” Further I have already shown in myPsychologyhow all universal judgments are negative, since to be conscious of universality means nothing else than to be convinced that there exists no exception; if this negative be not added, the most extensive list of positive assertions will never constitute a belief in universality. When therefore, a consciousness that every one must so think is here spoken of, there is in this fact a further proof of what I have asserted, namely that according to Sigwart’s doctrine of judgment the simplest positive acts of judgment must involve a negative act of judgment. And yet we are called upon at the same time to believe that the negative judgment, as set forth (p. 159 seq.), arose relatively late, and that therefore on this, as well as on other grounds, it is unworthy of being placed side by side, with the positive judgment as a species equally primordial! Sigwart would surely not have expected this of us had he been conscious of all that I have here set forth in detail, and which is the more clearly seen to be involved in his exposition, often so difficult to comprehend the more carefully it is submitted to reflection. Of course expressions may be found where Sigwart, respecting this or that point of detail, asserts the contrary of what is here deduced; for what else can be expected where everything is left in such ambiguity, and where the attempt to make things clear exhibits the most manifold contradictions?

3. Finally, we have still to show the genesis of the error in which this able logician has involved himself in a relativelysimple question after having once mistaken the nature of the judgment. Theproton pseudosis to be sought in a delusion which has come down to us from the older logic that to the essence of the judgment there belongs the relation of two ideas with one another. Aristotle has described this relation as combination and separation (σύνθεσις καἰ διαίρεσις) although he was well aware of the imperfect propriety of the expressions, adding at the same time that in a certain sense both relations might be described as a combination (σύνθεσις, cf.de Anima, iii. 6). Scholastic and modern logic held fast to the expressions “combination” and “separation”; in grammar, however, both these relations were termed “combination,” and the symbol for this combination the “copula.” Sigwart now takes seriously the expressions “combination” and “separation,” and so a negative copula seems to him a contradiction (cf. p. 153), the positive judgment, on the other hand, appears to be a presupposition of the negative judgment, since, before a combination has been set up, it cannot be separated. And so it appears to him that a negative judgment without a preceding positive judgment is quite meaningless (cf. p. 150 and above). Consequently we find this celebrated inquirer in a position which compels him to put forth the most strenuous efforts all to no purpose—the negative judgment remains inexplicable.

In a note (p. 159) he gives us, as a result of such attempts, a remarkable description of the process by which we arrive at the negative judgment—a result in which he believes himself finally able to rest satisfied. In this account the false steps which he successively makes become, each in turn, evident to the attentive observer. Long before the point is reached where he believes himself to have come upon the negative judgment, he has as a matter of fact already anticipated it.

He sets out with the correct observation that the first judgments which we make are all positive in character. These judgments are evident and made with full confidence. “Now, however,” he continues, “our thought goes out beyond the given; by the aid of recollections and associations, judgments arise which are at first also formed in the belief that they express reality” (which means, according to other expressions of Sigwart,that the ideas are combined with the consciousness of objective validity; for this (xiv. p. 98) belongs to the essence of the judgment) “as, for example, when we expect to find something with which we are acquainted in its usual place or pre-suppose respecting a flower that it smells. Now, however, a part of what is thus supposedcontradictsour immediate knowledge.” (We leave Sigwart to show here how we are able to recognize anything as “contradictory” when we are not as yet in possession of negative judgments and negative notions. The difficulty becomes still more sharply apparent as he proceeds:) “when we donot findwhat we expected, we become conscious of thedifferencebetween what existsmerelyin idea and what is real.” (What does “not find” mean here? I had not found it previously; obviously I now find that what was erroneously supposed to be associated with another object iswithoutit, and this I can only do by recognizing the one and denying the other, i.e. recognize it asnotbeing with it. Further what is meant here by “difference”? To recognize difference means to recognize that of two things the one isnotthe other. What is meant by existing “merely in idea”? Manifestly, “what exists in idea which isnotat the same time also real.” It would seem, however, that Sigwart is still unaware that in what he is describing the negative function of the judgment is already more than once involved. He continues:) “That of which we are immediately certain isanotherthan that” (i.e. it is not the same, it is indeed absolutely incompatible with that) “which we have judged in anticipation, and now” (i.e. after and since we have already passed all these negative judgments) “appears the negation which annuls the supposition and denies of it validity.And here a new attitude is involved in so far as the subjective combination is separated from the consciousness of certainty.The subjective combination is compared with one bearing the stamp of certainty, its distinction therefrom recognized, and out of this arises the notion of invalidity.” This last would almost seem to be a carelessness of expression, for if invalid were to mean as much as “false” and not “uncertain” it could not be derived from the distinction between a combination with and a combination without certainty, but only from the opposition existing betweencombination which is denied and one which is affirmed. As a matter of fact, the opposite affirmative judgment is not at all necessary to it. The opposition, the incompatibility of the qualities in a real, is already evident on the ground of the combination of ideas representing the opposite qualities which, as I repeat once more, cannot, according to Sigwart himself (p. 89 note; and p. 98 seq.), be called an attempt at positive judgment. Although this may now and again happen in the case of contradictory ideas, it certainly does not happen always. If, for example, the question is put to me: Does there exist a regular chiliagon with 1001 sides? then—assuming that I am not perfectly clear in my own mind, as will be the case with most men, that there does exist a regular chiliagon, I certainly do not attempt to form a judgment (i.e. according to Sigwart, confidently assume) that there exists a regular chiliagon having 1001 sides before forming the negative judgment that no such figure exists on the ground of the opposition between the qualities.

Sigwart himself, as his language frequently betrays (cf. e.g. pp. 152 and 150) recognizes at bottom, as he is bound to recognize, in spite of his attack upon the negative copula, that negation and denial are just as much a special function of the judgment as affirmation and recognition. If this be granted, then the range of their application is by no means so limited as he erroneously asserts. It is false that in every case where a denial takes place the predicate denied is the notion “valid.” Even of a judgment we may deny now its validity, now its certainty, now itsà prioricharacter. And just in the same way the subject of the judgment can change most frequently. Of a judgment we may deny certainty, and validity; of a request, modesty; and so in every case, universally expressed, we may deny B of A. Sigwart himself, of course, does this just like any one else. Indeed he sometimes speaks unintentionally far more correctly than his theory would admit, and witnesses, as it were, instinctively to the truth; as, e.g. p. 151, where he declares not—as he elsewhere teaches—that the subject of a negative proposition is always a judgment, and its predicatethe term “valid,” but “that ofevery subject...a countlessnumber of predicates may be denied.” This is certainly true and just on this account the old doctrine holds that affirmation and denial are equally primordial species.

Back to Index Next