Bernard Balzano

Theory of Science

Volume Three

Translated by Paul Rusnock and Rolf George

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VOLUME THREE

BOOK THREE: THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE

PART I: Of Ideas
PART II: Of Judgements
PART III: Of the Relation between our Judgements and Truth
PART IV: Of Certainty, Probability, and Confidence in Judgements
Contents
BOOK FOUR: THE ART OF DISCOVERY
PART I: General Rules
PART II: Particular Rules
Introduction to Volume Three xiii
VOLUME FOUR

BOOK FIVE: THEORY OF SCIENCE PROPER

PART I: General Rules BOOK THREE: THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE
PART II: On the Determination of the Extensions of the Sciences
PART III: On the Choice of a Class of Readers for a Treatise
PART IV: On the Propositions which Should Appear in a Treatise Part I: Of Ideas
Chapter 1:On the Essential Propositions of a Treatise
Chapter 2:On Supporting Propositions
Chapter 3:On Occasional Propositions
Chapter 4:Constituents of a Treatise whose Special
Character Derives from Other Factors
PART V: On the Divisions of a Treatise
PART VI: On the Order in which the Propositions Belonging
to a Treatise Should Appear
Chapter 1: General Rules of Order
Chapter 2: Particular Rules
PART VII: Theory of Signs or, On the Signs Used in or
Recommended by a Treatise
Chapter 1: On the Signs Recommended in a Treatise for
the Reader's Own Use
Chapter 2: On the Signs Used in a Treatise
PART VIII: How the Author of a Treatise Should Behave
PART IX: On Scientific Books that are not Genuine Treatises
APPENDIX
1
§. 269. * Purpose, contents, and divisions of this book . . . . . . . .
2
§. 270.* The concept of an idea in the subjective sense . . . . . . . 2
§. 271.* For every subjective idea there is a corresponding idea in itself 4
§. 272.* Every subjective idea is something actual, but only in that
it is a kind of property of a being . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5
§. 273. What the author means by a single subjective idea, and by
saying that several subjective ideas are equal or unequal 6
§. 274. Can several equal ideas exist in a being at the same time? 8
§. 275.* Strength or vividness of subjective ideas . . . . . . . . . . 9
§. 276.* Classification of subjective ideas based upon the correspond-
ing classification of objective ideas . . . . 11
§. 277.* We have simple as well as complex ideas . 11
§. 278.* We have intuitions as well as concepts 13
§. 279. Sensible and supersensible ideas 14
§. 280.* Clear and obscure ideas . . . . . . . . 15
§. 281.* Distinct and confused ideas . . . . . . 25
§. 282. Whether each of our ideas has a beginning and an end . 29
§. 283.* Whether every idea leaves a certain trace after it has
disappeared . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 31
§. 284. Effects which result from the traces of our ideas 35
§. 285. * Signs for our ideas . . . . . . . . . . 44

vii
 Contents Contents

§. 286.* Description of the most important ways in which ideas §. 311.* Origin of true judgements. Understanding and reason 151
originate . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 56 §. 312. Whether we can recognise a truth without recognising its
§. 287. Other views on the subject . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 61 grounds . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 154
§. 288. How the lack or cessation of an idea is to be understood 69 §. 313. Grounds for the recognition of truth . . . . . . . . . . . 156
§. 289.* Survey of the most important activities and states of our §. 314. Whether there are definite limits to our cognitive faculty 156
mind connected with ideas . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 69 §. 315. The doctrine of Critical Philosophy on this subject . 161
§. 316.* Survey of the most important distinctions between
Part II: Of Judgements 72
judgements, based on their relation to truth . . 174
§. 290.* The concept of a judgement . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 72
§. 291.* Some attributes common to all judgements . . . . . . . . . 72 Part IV: Of Certainty, Probability, and Confidence in
§. 292. What we call a single judgement, and when we say of two Judgements 177
or more judgements that they are equal or unequal . . . . . 74
§. 317. Definition of the concepts of certainty and probability with
§. 293.* Strength or vividness of judgements, and confidence in a
respect to thinking beings . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 177
judgement . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 75
§. 318. Factors which determine the confidence of our judgements 184
§. 294.* Distinctions between judgements based upon parallel
§. 319. The most noteworthy levels of our confidence . . . . . . . 187
distinctions between propositions . 77
§. 320. How the various degrees of confidence can be represented
§. 295. Clear and obscure judgements . . . . . . . . . . . . 77
numerically . . . . . . 190
§. 296. Distinct and confused judgements . . . . . . . . . . 78
§. 321.* Knowledge and belief . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 193
§. 297. Whether every judgement has a beginning and an end 79
§. 298. Whether every judgement leaves a trace after it disappears 80
§. 299. Effects of these traces of our judgements . . . . . . . . . . 81
§. 300.* Mediation of a judgement by other judgements . . . . . . 82 BOOK FOUR: THE ART OF DISCOVERY 197
§. 301.* The generation of judgements by the relation of probability 91
§. 322.* Purpose, contents, and divisions of this book. . . . . . . . 197
§. 302. How we come by our immediate judgements . . . . . 92
§. 323. The concept of reflection, in particular of reflection aimed
§. 303.* How we arrive at, or could arrive at, our most general
at the discovery of new truths . . . . . . 198
judgements of experience . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 94
§. 324. The concept of instructions for thinking 202
§. 304. Other opinions on this subject . . . . . . . . . . . . 111
§. 305. The doctrine of the Critical Philosophy concerning this point 120
Part I: General Rules 204
§. 306.* Survey of the most important activities and states of mind
which concern the business of judging . . . . . . . . 134
§. 325.* I. Exact determination of the truth we actually seek, without
rejecting truths which present themselves unbidden . . 204
Part III: Of the Relation between our Judgements and Truth 139
§. 326.* II. Preliminary consideration of whether answering the
§. 307.* More precise determination of the concepts: knowledge, question before us is impossible either as such or for us 206
ignorance, and error . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 139 §. 327.* III. Taking up suitable preliminary questions . . . . . . 208
§. 308. Grounds for the possibility of ignorance in man . . . . 141 §. 328.* IV. Deductions from already known truths or direct method 211
§. 309.* Grounds for the possibility of error, and circumstances §. 329.* V. Tentative acceptance or indirect method . . . . . . . . . 213
promoting error . . . . . . . . . . . 143 §. 330. VI. Combination of several methods . . . . . . . . . . . . 220
§. 310. Other treatments of the same subject 147 §. 331.* VII. Consultation of others' judgements and of experience 223

Vlll IX
 Contents Contents

§. 332.* VIII. Examination of one's own previously formed §. 354. V. Whether an idea is redundant; purification of redundant
judgements . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 227 ideas . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 271
§. 333. IX. Directing one's attention preferentially towards §. 355 VI. Investigating the relation between the extensions of given
individual judgements and ideas . . . . . . . . . . 236 ideas . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 272
§. 334. X. Associating our ideas with suitable signs. Advantages of §. 356. VII. Discovering an idea that contains a similarity between
this association. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 237 given objects . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 275
§. 335. The nature of signs which are supposed to aid us in our own §. 357. VIII. Discovering an idea that furnishes a difference
reflection: 1) They must be sensible objects . . . . . . . . 239 between given objects . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 277
§. 336. 2) Which can be easily displayed anywhere . . . . . . . . 239 §. 358. IX. Discovering an attribute that belongs exclusively to given
§. 337. 3) An inner connection between the idea of the sign and the objects either with respect to a given multitude of objects or
designated idea must either exist or else be easily produced 240 in general . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 280
§. 338. 4) A suitable sign should not call forth any detrimental §. 359. X. Discovering an idea that subsumes a given multitude of
secondary ideas . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 240 objects . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 282
§. 339. Special attributes of signs that are supposed to preserve our §. 360. XI. Discovering an idea that subsumes more than a given
thoughts: 1) They must be sufficiently long-lasting 241 multitude of objects . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 284
§. 340. 2) They should be easily recognised everywhere . . . . . . 242 §. 361. XII. Discovering an idea that subsumes fewer than a given
§. 341. 3) Identical signs should never have several easily confused multitude of objects . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 285
meanings . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 242 §. 362 XIII. Discovering an idea that exactly subsumes a given
§. 342. 4) Different ideas should never be expressed by means of multitude of objects . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 289
signs which are too similar . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 242 §. 363. XIV. Discovering an idea that represents less than a given
§. 343. Some other recommended attributes of signs . . . . . . . . 243 multitude of objects but more than a given part of this
§. 344. Rules for the invention and use of signs for the purposes of multitude . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 290
one's own reflection . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 245 §. 364. XV. Discovering an idea which subsumes both more and
§. 345. XI. The use of images connected with our ideas . . . . . . 252 less than a given multitude . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 292
§. 346.* XII. Consideration of the logical attributes and relations of §. 365. XVI. Discovering several ideas which only collectively
our judgements and ideas . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 252 subsume a given multitude of objects . . . . . . 294
§. 347. XIII. Estimating the reliability of the answer we have §. 366. XVII. Defining a proposition that is given to our
discovered . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 253 consc10usness . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 297
§. 348.* XIV. Additional rnles concerning the conditions of thought 255 §. 367. XVIII. Investigating whether a given proposition is analytic
or synthetic . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 298
Part II: Particular Rules 260 §. 368. XIX. Investigating the relations between given propositions 298
§. 369.* XX. Testing the truth of a given proposition . . . . . . . . 299
§. 349.* I. Discovering suitable problems . . . . . . . . 260 §. 370.* XXL Testing the force of conviction of a given proof . . . 302
§. 350.* II. Analysing an idea given to our consciousness 264 §. 371.* The most common flaws of proofs; a) with respect to matter 306
§. 351. Mistakes in carrying out this task . . . . . . . . 268 §. 372.* b) With respect to form . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 311
§. 352. III. Whether a given idea is real or imaginary, and whether §. 373.* Various indicators of the incorrectness of a proof: a) if the
it has an object . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 269 conclusion is false . . . . . . . . . . 312
§. 353. IV. Whether a given object-idea has only one or several §. 374.* b) If the proof proves too much . . . 312
objects . . . . . . . . . . ............. . 270 §. 375.* c) If it doesn't use all the conditions 314

x XI
 Contents

§,. 376. * d) It· i't calls· t1pcl11 the experience at the wrong place, or
scorns it . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
§. 377. Examination of some famous sophisms from the writings
of logicians . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
§. 378. XXII. Discovering the ground of a given truth . . .
§. 379. XXIII. The discovery of causes for given effects . .
§. 380. The most common mistakes in performing this task
§. 381. XXIV. Examination of purported causes . . . . .
§. 382. Further rules to be observed when seeking causes
§. 383. XXV. Discovering suitable means for given ends .
§. 384. XXVI. Discovering the effects of given causes . .
§. 385. XXVII. Investigation of the judgements of other beings
§. 386. XXVIII. Investigation of the intentions behind given actions
§. 387. XXIX. The interpretation of given signs . . . . . . .
§. 388. XXX. Discovery of available testimony . . . . . . .
§. 389. XXXI. Investigating the credibility of given witnesses
§. 390. XXXII. Determining the credibility of a proposition based
on the opinions of all those who either accept or reject it
§. 39 l. XXXIII. Discovering new truths about a given object
Bibliography
Index of Names
Index of Subjects
INTRODUCTION TO VOLUME THREE
316
316 Volume three of the Theory <~f Science contains two of the five main parts of
328 the work, Book three, devoted to the Theory of Knowledge and Book four,
329 on the Art of Discovery. We shall discuss these parts separately.
343
344 Book Three: Themy of Knowledge
346
347 Having set out the theory of propositions and ideas in themselves in Book
349 two, Bolzano turns in Book three to subjective ideas and propositions. A
352 subjective idea is characterised as the appearance or manifestation of its ob-
354 jective counterpart in a mind. These rather unhelpful expressions seem to
359 mean that the mind forms a subjective idea with logical attributes that paral-
lel those of the corresponding idea in itself (e.g., if they have objects, then
367
369 they have the same extension and, if complex, are composed of equivalent
parts put together in similar fashion, etc.). He will also say, again speaking
374 figuratively, that when someone thinks a subjective idea, he grasps the corre-
376 sponding objective idea. Finally, the objective idea is called the matter [Stoff]
of the corresponding subjective idea. 1 More than one subjective idea (either
in one and the same mind or in different minds) may correspond to a given
381 objective idea-such ideas are said to be equal as regards their matter. The
individuation of subjective ideas thus requires a different approach from the
391 one followed for objective ideas. 2 Similar remarks apply to propositions.
A few words on Bolzano's metaphysics may be helpful at this point. 3
Like Leibniz, he thought that the universe was composed ultimately of sub-
394 stances and their attributes, which he called adherences. 4 Bolzanian sub-
stances, like Leibniz's monads, are both simple and indestructible by natural
means, and hence in the normal case also eternal. Bolzano disagreed with
Leibniz on some important points, however, maintaining that substances are
in space and time (each one occupying a distinct point at any given instant),
I §§270-272; 291.
2 §273.
3 The main published sources for Bolzano's metaphysics are Athanasia, oder Griinde fiir
die Unsterblichkeit der Seele (!st ed. Sulzbach 1827; 2nd ed. Sulzbach, 1838); Paradoxien
des Unendlichen (Leipzig, 1851); Franz Pffhonsky, Atomenlehre des sel. Bo/zano (Bautzen,
1857); new edition by E. Morscher and Ch. Thiel in Franz Pffhonsky, Neuer Anti-Kant und
Atomenlehre des seligen Bolwno (St. Augustin: Academia. 2003).
4
Bolzano discusses his agreements and disagreements with Leibniz in one of his note-
books: Philosophische Tagebiicher 1827-1844, Bernard Bolz.ano-Gesamtausgabe (hereafter,
BBGA), Series 2 B, Vol. 18/2, pp. 37-48, 56-57.

Xll Xlll
 Introduction to Volume Three
and really (not merely ideally) interact. Substances thus exertforces, which
cause changes in other substances. Not themselves substances, forces are
classed by Balzano as adherences. In addition to these externally directed
adherences, he also thinks that all substances have internal states. Again
following Leibniz, he on rare occasions calls these representations or ideas
[Vorstellwzgen] in a very broad sense of this term. 1 It is appropriate in this
respect to call every substance a mind or soul, again in a very broad sense
of these terms, and Balzano accordingly calls forces as well as the internal
states of substances psychological phenomena. 2 Minds in the stricter sense,
i.e., beings capable of forming ideas and judgements, etc., are also simple
substances in his view.
He distinguishes five kinds of internal psychological phenomena: subjec-
tive ideas, judgements, sensations, desires (wishes) and resolutions (acts of
will). From the point of view of logic, the first two, corresponding to the
ideas and propositions in themselves studied in the Theory of Elements, are
the most noteworthy. We note in passing that Balzano has no separate cate-
gory for propositional acts of merely thinking that p, without taking it to be
true. He takes them to be acts of forming an idea of the proposition that p. 3
We saw in Volume one that Balzano took propositions rather than ideas
to be primary, and consequently rejected the widespread view according to
which ideas were a second set of objects in the mind resembling the objects
outside in some way or another. As a result, he deems the theory of subjec-
tive ideas to be far less important for epistemology than most early modern
philosophers had. All the same, he dutifully works through the traditional
distinctions, telling us what it means for ideas to be more or less vivid, clear
or obscure, distinct or confused, simple or complex, etc. 4 He speculates that
subjective ideas, even after they have ceased to be, leave behind them linger-
ing effects on the minds in which they formerly existed. These effects, called
traces, are then appealed to in his accounts of memory and the association of
ideas. 5
Although Bolzano's account of ideas is quite conservative in its general
approach, reflecting the then-widespread views of sense-data epistemology
and associationist psychology, it is noteworthy for the precision it brings to
1
E.g., §283 [III.247]; cf. §35 [I.235], in Volume !.
2 § 143, in Volume 2.
3 1§72,
§290. See W. Kiinne, "Propositions in Bolzano and Frege," Grazer Philosophische Stu-
dien 53 ( 1997) 203-240, for a discussion of these and related matters.
4 §§275-28 l.
5 §§283-284.
XIV
Introduction to Volume Three
these theories. Consider again, for example, his notion of an intuition. In
objective terms, these had been defined as ideas that are both simple (having
1
110 parts) and singular (having exactly one object). On the subjective side,
Balzano maintains that all human intuitions have psychological phenomena
as objects-often sensations, but also judgements, desires, etc. In a typical
case, an intuition has as its unique object a sensation that is present just now
in the mind that forms the intuition. Often, these sensations are caused by
external, physical objects (i.e., objects other than the mind experiencing the
sensation)-more precisely, by collections of infinitely many substances. The
sensation is not an idea in the strict sense-that is, it is not the sort of thing
that could ever be a part of a judgement. Rather, it is represented by an
idea, the intuition. (Balzano thought that the subjective intuitions were the
immediate effects of the sensations that were their unique objects, and saw in
this circumstance the explanation of how a simple idea might represent only
one object. 2 ) These intuitions, in turn, are often subsumed under general
concepts such as "red", namely, when someone makes a judgement of the
form "This is red." 3 We thus have something like the following picture:
Causes . _C~a_us~e_s-+-I . . is subordinate to C
Object ----Sensation ntmt1on oncept
uniquely (this) (e.g., red)
represents
Most, if not all, of this complexity is lacking in many early modern ac-
counts of ideas. By and large, the notion of an intuition in Bolzano's sense
is completely absent, and sensations are frequently confused with concepts,
i.e., the object of the idea with the idea itself. Locke, for example, spoke of
"simple ideas of sensation" such as "yellow, white, heat, cold, soft, hard." 4
These ideas, he claimed, come to us through the senses, and are individual
in character-they are particulars, thus much like Bolzano's sensations. But
the very same ideas, according to Locke, also occur as parts of judgements,
as when we judge that a pear is yellow or that buttercups are yellow-and
here, they seem to be general in character, like Bolzano's concepts. We thus
seem to have something like the following conception:
in Volume !.
2 §74, no. 1, in Volume !.
3 Cf. §59, no. 3, in Volume !.
4
Essay, II, i, §3.
xv
 Introduction to Volume Three
Causes
Object..._.._ _ _ Idea of sensation
represents (e.g., yellow)
Ideas were thus held to be both the elements of judgements and the el-
ements of sensation. But it is not clear how anything can function in both
of these capacities. Ideas were often described in terms not consistent with
their roles as terms of judgements: they were said to be divisible, round,
moving, receding, etc. It is clear that mental occurrences of this sort, what-
ever we want to call them, are not what is required to fill the role of terms
of judgements. If judgements are, as Bolzano supposed, mentally articulated
propositions, their terms will have to be something other than sense-data and
the like. Sensations, etc., could be seen to be parts of judgements only under
very peculiar circumstances; they are, in any case, not eo ipso what is wanted
here. It seems, then, that any theory which envisages judgements as manifest
mental events, and which also holds sensations to be mental events, must dis-
tinguish subjective ideas from sensations, or at least must offer an explanation
of how one kind of entity can fill both of these roles. (Hume, for example,
did not separate these kinds. He claims reasoning to be the operation of our
thoughts and ideas, but it is not very plausible to call reasoning the operation
of something that can be divided, or pointlike, etc.)
Bolzano did not become a victim of that confusion. For him a subjective
idea is either part of a mental proposition, or at least could be such a part,
i.e., he concentrates on the logical functions of ideas; he never envisages
them as something that is at all like a sensation. This concentration on the
logical aspects of mental activity, one-sided though it may be, allows him
to avoid certain classical mistakes. In particular, the view that knowledge
consists in the similarity or resemblance between our ideas and their objects
is exposed as fallacious. The cluster of difficulties concerned with the so-
called adequation of ideas and their objects were thus dismissed by him as
pseudo-problems. The question whether an idea agrees with its object, in
particular, is deemed utterly trivial:
If one wished to say that agreement simply means that the ideas
fit their objects, i.e., actually represent them, then I would ask:
which object do you mean by the object of an idea? If you mean
the objects to which the idea itself applies (and I usually take the
expression in this sense) then every idea represents its object; for
xvi
Introduction to Volume Three
an object that the idea does not represent, or does not fit, is not
an object of that idea. 1
As careful as Bolzano is in setting out the distinctions between objects,
sensations, intuitions, and the concepts under which these are subordinated in
judgements, he sometimes appears to lose sight of them. In §303, for exam-
ple, he speaks of repeatedly experiencing certain intuitions, ~f what happens
whenever we have certain intuitions, etc. 2 But we had previously been told
that the object of any humanly attainable intuition is "a change that occurs just
now" in the being that forms the intuition. Since these changes are present
3
only once, however, it follows directly that intuitions are unrepeatable. To
be more precise, he should have spoken of having, at different times, various
sensations that are represented by various intuitions that stand under certain
concepts, etc. Perhaps it was for the sake of brevity that he allowed himself to
follow then customary usage in speaking of repeated intuitions, and running
too-ether intuitions and sensations, etc., as he did. It is also possible, however,
b
that these passages are a relic of his earlier usage: in 1810, he appears to
have used the term 'intuition' for the object of the idea "X" in the judgement
(i.e., for what he would later call a sensation), rather than for the idea "X"
which represents that object-in any case, he does not appear to have clearly
4
grasped the distinction between sensation and intuition at that time. Be that
as it may, readers will need to make a fair number of tacit emendations in this
section in order to understand Bolzano's theory.
A related case of apparent confusion may be found in §271, where Bol-
zano argues for the thesis that for every subjective idea there is a correspond-
ing objective one. He writes:
If a certain subjective idea A is to be actually present in the mind
of a thinking being, then the proposition "This being has the idea
A" is a truth, and indeed, even if there is no one who thinks this
truth, i.e., it is a truth in itself. So too the constituents of this
proposition are just so many ideas in themselves. But it is obvi-
1§29 [I.28], in Volume 1.
2§303, nos. 12ff. A similar looseness or expression is evident in §303, no. 21, where B.
seems to use the terms 'intuition' and 'sensation' as if they were interchangeable, and in §304,
no. 1, where he speaks of the "perception of intuitions".
3Cf. §75, no. 1, in Volume 1.
4Beytriige zu einer begriindeteren Darstellung der Mathematik (Prague, 1810); English
translation by S. B. Russ in The Mathematical Works of Bernard Bolzano (Oxford University
Press, 2004), Appendix, §4.
XVll
 Introduction to Volume Three
ous that the idea A must itself occur in this proposition-not the
subjective idea, but rather the corresponding objective one. 1
Bolzano says that it is obvious that the idea "A" occurs in this proposition.
But is it? It seems to be rather an idea of the idea "A" that is required here, a
point Bolzano himself recognises only a few pages later:
... let us see what is necessary in order to form the judgement
that we have a certain idea a. There is no occurrence, in this
judgement, of the idea a itself, but only of an idea of this idea. 2
Given Bolzano's consistent acuity, it is quite surprising to find two ap-
parently contradictory statements so close together. It therefore seems rea-
sonable to look for some way to reconcile these two remarks. We think the
problem could be resolved if we were to suppose that Bolzano assumes that
the idea "A" is part of the idea "the idea 'A"', just as an expression within
quotation marks is part of the expression consisting of the expression along
with the quotation marks, e.g.:
Dog
is part of
"Dog"
In this case, we could say that in a proposition of the form:
This being has the idea A
the idea "A" would not constitute the entire predicate, but rather only part of
it, i.e., part of the idea "the idea 'A"'. While this suggestion seems to fit with
what Bolzano says here and elsewhere, however, we know of no passage in
his works where he explicitly endorses such an account.
The second part of book three, which is concerned with judgements, be-
gins with a discussion that parallels the first part of Bolzano's treatment of
ideas, where he deals with the individuation of judgements, tells us what he
means when he calls them clear or obscure, distinct or confused, etc., postu-
lates traces left behind by judgements, sketches a theory of memory based on
traces, and so on. 3
1§271 [III.8-9].
2§280 [III.27-28].
3 §§290-299.
xviii
Introduction to Volume Three
He then turns to the question of the origin of judgements. Many of these
do not arise in the mind of themselves, but rather only through the mediation
of others. There are only three ways that such mediation occurs, he claims,
corresponding to the relations of deducibility (§ 155), ground-consequence
(§198), and (relative) probability (§161). Hence when a judgement Mis me-
diated by judgements A, B, C, ... , one of the three following cases holds:
1. M is deducible from A, B, C, ....
2. M is a consequence of the grounds A, B, C, ....
1
3. Mis probable with respect to A, B, C, ....
He takes it as obvious that we also form some immediate judgements, because
"the existence of mediated ones can in the end be understood only because
there are also immediate judgements."2 Some of these are intuitional or em-
pirical, but some are also perforce purely conceptual. 3
A couple of important remarks follow. To begin with, in the case of de-
ducibility, a rule of inference is sometimes included among the mediating
judgements A, B, C, ... , and sometimes not. But even when a rule of in-
ference does occur among the premises, the application of this rule (i.e., the
actual act of inferring) must occur immediately, i.e., without an explicitly
stated rule. Otherwise, as he describes in detail, we end up with the infinite
regress familiar from Lewis Carroll's paradox. 4 Second, Bolzano insists that
in the third case the conclusion that is drawn is not the proposition that M is
probable with respect to A, B, C, ... , but rather M itself (the former conclu-
sion, he notes, would not merely be probable with respect to A, B, C, ... ,
but actually deducible from them). Later, he speculates that such probable
inferences come about due to the limitations of our cognitive powers, in that
we begin by forming the judgement "M is probable" and, through inattentive-
ness, omit the part "is probable". This happens above all with propositions of
the sort that are called morally certain:
[W]ith judgements expressing the probability of a proposition
M-provided that this probability is so high that we must guide
our action by M-the proposition itself is by far the most im-
portant thing, while the fact that it is not decidedly true but only
1§300. In the first and third cases, it is understood that these relations hold with respect to
some variable parts or other.
2§300, no. 3 [III.125].
3§300, nos. 12. 13.
4
~300, no. 9 [III.127-128].
XIX
 Intmduction to Volume Three
probable is not nearly as important. Now if we are unable to
keep in our mind all of the parts of M as well as the thought that
this proposition is not completely certain, but merely so highly
probable that we have to act upon it, then it seems natural that we
omit the latter thought, since it is the less important, and concen-
trate our attention merely upon proposition M itself in order to
grasp it completely and retain it. In this way it happens that the
judgement which attributes only a certain degree of probability
to proposition M gradually disappears from our clear conscious-
ness (if it ever attained such a position), and judgement M alone
remains. 1
It is thus entirely possible for the process of mediation to produce false (though
probable) conclusions from true premises. Probabilistic mediation is thus a
source of error and indeed, as we shall see, the only one according to Bolzano.
With these preliminaries out of the way, Bolzano proceeds to develop
an account of how we come to make some of our most basic judgements of
experience. He is interested in particular in those judgements of experience
that we erroneously take to be immediate because "we are rarely conscious of
the inferences which mediate them." 2 J. A. Coffa, in his book on the semantic
tradition, noted the resemblance of this project to what Carnap would later
undertake in the Aujbau. 3 It indeed seems fair to regard Bolzano's §303 as
a detailed sketch of what Carnap called a constructional system, even if the
two differ profoundly in that Carnap tried to construct objects while Bolzano
aimed rather at our judgements about objects. 4 A final point of resemblance
is that Bolzano, like Carnap, does not claim to produce an account that is
factually accurate in all its details, but instead only a rational reconstruction:
I do not merely want to describe how these judgements are actu-
ally formed, but rather how they could and should be formed if
a rational man wanted to justify them. 5
His starting point is the construction of our judgements about temporal
order. While he does think that the now is immediately recognisable, i.e., as
1§301,
no. 2 [Ill.137-138].
2 §303 [III.141].
3 J. A. Coffa, The Semantic Tradition from Kant to Carnap (Cambridge: Cambridge Uni-
versity Press, 1992), p. 207. So too Jan Berg, in his introduction to BBGA, Series I, Vol. 13/ I,
p.21-22.
4 Cf. Coffa, p. 238.
5 §303 [III.141 ].
xx
Introduction to Volume Three
the moment in which a given psychological phenomenon occurs, and that we
can also recognise some cases of simultaneity (e.g., of the parts of a complex
psychological phenomenon), he denies that we have any immediate grasp of
before and after in time. One of the first tasks is thus to explain the origin of
judgements bearing on the temporal sequence of events. Difference of times
can be established, he claims, partly by logical means:
[I]t would be an obvious contradiction to say that a judgement
A as well as its actual contradictory, the judgement "A is false",
are formed simultaneously. Hence, if we are forced to admit the
presence of certain contradictory phenomena in ourselves, we
conclude that they could occur only at different times. 1
A similar technique can be used in certain cases to establish temporal order,
for if I am aware that both A and not-A are or have been present in my mind
and that A is present now, I may conclude that not-A was formed in the past.
By recognising the simultaneity of A with B and not-A with C, etc., these
basic judgements of temporal order can be parlayed into others. We then
have a sketch of how a temporal metric, or measure of duration, might be
established.
Bolzano thinks that we are able to recognise immediately whether the ob-
ject of a given intuition had its cause inside or outside of the mind. 2 This ba-
sic ability is presupposed in his account of how we begin to make judgements
about objects outside of us, based largely on the purely conceptual principle
that similar causes produce similar effects. We learn to distinguish various
external objects, among them our own bodies, and form various judgements
about their properties and relations.
Finally, Bolzano describes in some detail how we come to make judge-
ments about spatial relations. Earlier, space had been defined as the collection
of all locations, and locations as "those determinations of [actual] things that
we must think in addition to their forces in order to comprehend the changes
that they cause in one another." 3 Now even in the simplest case where there
are only two substances A and B, it seems obvious that multiple solutions to
Bolzano's problem will be possible-for from the point of view of A we are
not given the forces exerted by B, but only their effects, which depend upon
two unknowns (the forces exerted by B and its location relative to A). We
can thus save all the appearances in a variety of ways, provided that changes
1§303, no. 3 (III.143-144].
2 §303, no. 10.
3
§79 [I.366].
xxi
 Introduction to Volume Three
in location are matched by appropriate changes in the forces. The possibility
of different physical geometries thus seems built right into the structure of
Bolzano's theory. Surprisingly and somewhat disappointingly, however, he
does not appear to have seen this, and appears to assume that his problem has
a unique solution.
The part on judgements concludes with a survey of various activities con-
nected with judgement. Of particular interest here is Bolzano's definition of
the notion of an a priori judgement:
If the propositions from which a judgement Mis deduced, as well
as those from which the former follow, clown to the immediate
judgements, are all purely conceptual propositions, then judge-
ment M can be called a judgement from pure concepts, or pure,
or a priori. In all other cases it could be said to be drawn from
experience or a posteriori. l
It is clear from this definition that the notions of a purely conceptual judge-
ment and of an a priori judgement are anything but coextensive. Indeed,
because many purely conceptual judgements are only made after a long se-
quence of inferences, in which memory (and hence empirical or intuitional
judgements) is involved, a priori judgements in the strict sense defined above
would seem to be quite rare in Bolzano's estimation.
The third part of Book three (§§307-316) deals with knowledge, igno-
rance, error, and related matters. Cognition, or knowledge in the broad sense
(Kenntnis or Erkenntnis) was roughly characterised in §34 as true judgement.
Bolzano now broadens this characterisation to allow for cases where some-
one does not currently judge that something is the case, but is in a position
and of a disposition to do so:
According to customary usage, we ascribe knowledge, and in-
deed continual knowledge of a truth A to someone, if he has
formed the judgement A at some point in the past, and if under
circumstances which suffice for him to remember other judge-
ments he hasn't forgotten, he not only would be in a position to
recall A, but would still be committed to it. 2
Ignorance is then defined as a lack of awareness of a truth, and error as being
committed to a false proposition. Bolzano takes care to observe that one
cannot be said to know a truth A or be committed to a falsehood B simply
1§306, no. 12 [III.202].
2 §307, no. I [III.207].
xx ii
Introduction to Volume Three
because these are deducible from other propositions one is committed to;
rather, one must either have deduced these conclusions or else it must be
certain that one will do so, if the attribution of knowledge or error is to be
justified-no logical omniscience for us, then. l
He next embarks on an inquiry into the origin of e1rnr. Immediate judge-
ments, he claims, are infallible. Characteristically, he attempts to show that
this is a purely conceptual truth which can be established without even citing
an example of an immediate judgement. 2 Bolzano does not state the com-
plete argument, but it can be reconstructed in the following manner: in the
Theory of Fundamentals it was established that we know at least one truth.
This knowledge must be either immediate or derived. In either case we must
have some immediate knowledge. Assume that we know that not all but only
some of our immediate judgements are true. But if we know this, then we
must have reasons why some of them are true, and others false, and if we
have such reasons, then the judgements are not immediate. Balzano claims
that if we hold some of them to be false, we must hold all of them to be false,
since they all originate in the same way (namely, without further reasons for
their truth or falsity). If valid, the argument would establish only the fact that
we are in possession of a class of judgements that are infallible, but it does
not identify these judgements. In casting about for likely candidates for that
role, Balzano, not surprisingly, settles upon judgements of the forms "I have
the impression A" and "This (what I now experience) is an A." There must
be at least some immediate judgements of this form, Balzano argues, because
"every derived judgement of this so1t presupposes another of the same kind."
Hence "if the judgement 'The intuition X is an A' is not to be immediate, then
it must be deduced from a pair of other judgements, namely, 'The intuition X
is a B', and 'All B are A ')." 3 The judgement "The intuition A is a B" is either
immediate, or derives in the indicated fashion from another judgement of the
same form. Eventually, we must arrive at an immediate judgement. What is
remarkable about this argument is that Balzano does not argue from the phe-
nomenal character of some judgements to their immediacy and infallibility,
but argues for the infallibility of some forms of judgement from the fact that
we know anything at all.
All mediate judgements are based on, i.e., mentally caused by, immedi-
ate judgements. As we saw, Balzano held that a given judgement Q can be
mediated by another, P, only if it is derivable from P (either in the sense of
1§307, no. 3.
2 Cf.§42, 311.
3 §300, no. 12 [III.131].
xxiii
 Introduction to Volume Three
§155 or §198) or P makes Q probable. He obviously envisaged the mind
as some sort of machine which produces judgements according to certain
rules. (Bolzano held the production of judgements to be involuntary. They
are caused either by something that is presented to me, as in the case of im-
mediate judgements, or by other judgements already present in the mind. I
can only exercise a modest amount of control by the direction of my attention
towards certain ideas.) The rules the mind follows in the production of judge-
ments belong to, and constitute much of, the objective part of logic. In other
words, Bolzano assumes that judgements stimulate and produce one another
in the mind in confonnity with the objective rules of deducibility and prob-
ability. Enws can, of course, occur, but only if a judgement that is merely
probable on the basis of previously accepted judgements is accepted without
qualification and turns out to be false. That is, we err when we forget that we
derived a certain proposition through a probabilistic argument, and proceed
from 'The probability of Pis µ" to P itself.
With this exception, thought processes and ratiocination are claimed to
conform to objectively valid arguments, so that neglecting probability-riders
is the only possible source of error. But what could be the evidence that if P
and Q are present in the mind, and R is stimulated by them (how do we know
that R was stimulated by them?) then R is deducible from them? Bolzano
claims in effect that there is no evidence against this assumption, but it is fair
to ask what such contrary evidence could be. It seems that evidence against
Bolzano's claim would have to consist of an argument which is everywhere
accepted as valid but which is objectively invalid or, conversely, by an argu-
ment which is objectively valid but is generally rejected. In the nature of the
case, this evidence cannot be produced. Thus while there might be such argu-
ments, they cannot he brought forth as evidence. Hence, Bolzano's claim, if
it makes any sense at all, is not the kind of proposition that can be confirmed
or disconfirmed.
It is important to recall in this connection that not every proposition that
appears in the mind is a judgement, i.e., an accepted proposition. We can
have the mere idea of a proposition in our mind without affirming it. Bol-
zano 's theory as we have sketched it was concerned only with the origin of
judgements; ideas, even ideas of propositions, can be generated in quite dif-
ferent ways, for example, by association.
The final part of Book three (§§317-321) discusses the certainty, proba-
bility, and confidence of judgements. Notable here are Bolzano's distinction
between probability as a relation between propositions in themselves with re-
xxiv
Introduction to Volume Three
spect to given variable ideas and various kinds of subjective probabilities, as
well as his attempt to characterise knowledge in the strong sense (Wissen).
In § J61, he had defined the probability of a proposition M relative to
propositions A,B,C, ... and with respect to variable ideas i,j,k, ... as the
ratio of the number of substitutions for i, j, k, ... that make all of A, B, C, .. .
as well as M trne to the number of substitutions that make all of A, B, C, .. .
true. If M has probability =1 with respect to A, B, C, ... , it is said to be certain
relative to them. These are objective relations, holding between propositions
in themselves, as Bolzano remarks,
... where it is a matter of indifference whether these propositions
are in themselves true or false or whether there is a thinking be-
ing who takes them to be trne or even thinks them. 1
But 'certainty', Bolzano notes, is also used in a different, subjective sense,
as for instance when infallible judgements (e.g., immediate ones) are said to
be certain for the being that forms them. Similarly, one may distinguish the
probability a proposition M has with respect to other propositions A, B, C, ... ,
in and of themselves from the probability it has with respect to other propo-
sitions A', B', C', ... , that are held to be true by someone. In the latter case,
furthermore, the person who takes A', B', C', ... , to be true may or may
not be aware of the relation of probability between them and M; Bolzano
speaks in this connection of recognised and unrecognised probabilities. Fi-
nally, we may distinguish the probability a proposition M has with respect to
only some of the propositions someone takes to be true, or with respect to
all, between relative and absolute probabilities attaching to a proposition for
a given thinker.
Probability in any of these senses is to be distinguished, Bolzano main-
tains, from the confidence with which someone forms a judgement. 2 Upon
pain of infinite regress, this confidence cannot be fixed in every case by an
estimation of the probability of the proposition deemed to be true, since this
estimation is itself a judgement with its own degree of confidence. Bolzano
nonetheless thinks that confidence of a judgement M is a function of proba-
bility, namely, of the given proposition with respect to all of the propositions
bearing on M currently in the judger's mind. Probability being a matter of
degree, we can accordingly distinguish various degrees of certainty. Moral
1§317, no.
I [III.264].
2 §318; cf. §293.
xxv
 Introduction to Volume Three
certainty is defined in terms of ordinary certainty along with the perceived
consequences of belief in M or its opposite. 1
The final section offers a definition of knowledge in the strong sense,
or Wissen. Bolzano takes this to be confidence in a truth that we ourselves
perceive to be unshakable:
Suppose that a truth M, either immediately or after we pay at-
tention to its grounds, has become so evident to us that we as-
sume we could not persuade ourselves of the opposite even if we
wanted. In other words, we think that it is not in our power to
destroy the confidence with which we are attached to judgement
M. In this case I should like to call truth Man item of knowledge
[Wissen]. 2
Opposed to knowledge is belief, which may attach both to truths and to false-
hoods. Interesting here is that confidence in a truth in cases of knowledge
might indeed be destroyed; what matters is that one thinks that it cannot. On
the other hand, a proposition that someone knows must also be true, some-
thing that holds completely independently of his judgements.
There is no doubt that Bolzano's epistemology is open to attack on a
number of fronts. All the same, it is worth noting some of the strong points,
the fruits of the careful prior investigations of the Theory of Elements. To
start with, the notion of an immediate judgement is carefully distinguished
from that of a basic truth, i.e., a truth that has no objective ground. Although
Bolzano assumes that all immediate judgements are true and indeed certain,
he takes pains to point out that the propositions in themselves that are their
matter need not, and usually are not, basic truths. This is most obvious in the
case of so-called immediate judgements of perception, e.g., "I have sensation
A":
For a truth of the form "I have the idea or sensation A" cannot
be among the truths which have no further ground; rather, just
as my own existence and the fact that I now have precisely these
ideas, sensations, etc., must have a cause, so too the truth stating
the presence of these ideas and sensations in me must have a
ground. 3
1§319.
2 §321 [III.288]. Bolzano later criticised this definition as inadequate. See BBGA, Se-
ries 2A, Vol. 12/l, p. 124 and 2Al2/2 p. 189 as well as Bolzano's Wissenschaftslehre w1d
Religionswissenschaft in einer beurtheilender Uebersicht (Sulzbach, 1841), p. 79-80.
3 §3 l 2 [III.229].
XXVl
Introduction to Volume Three
On the other hand, it is entirely possible for us to accept a basic truth only
after a series of inferences, so that a truth that is basic in the objective sense
may be derivative in the subjective.
Next, consider Bolzano's exemplary clarity on the subject of the a priori.
To speak of a priori truth or a priori propositions is, on his principles, to
commit a category mistake, for only judgements and knowledge may strictly
speaking be called a priori. Where Kant had said that all the judgements of
pure mathematics are a priori, Bolzano says instead that all the truths (i.e.,
true propositions) of pure mathematics are purely conceptual, and that at least
some of them can be known a priori. A priori knowledge in his strict sense,
Bolzano allows, is indeed completely certain, as had been claimed by many of
his contemporaries. But this claim should not be confused with the claim that
all of our purely conceptual, in particular mathematical, judgements are infal-
lible. Given the long chains of deductions required to move from immediate
judgements to most truths of mathematics via perfect (i.e., non-probabilistic)
inferences, memory is almost inevitably involved, and with it all the fallibility
of empirical judgements. Moreover, even when we have formed a judgement
a priori, it may be extremely difficult to become aware that we have done so. 1
As a consequence, judgements that are in fact infallible may not be recognised
as such; while on the other hand, we may easily mistakenly believe a judge-
ment to be infallible when it is anything but. Bolzano's position thus allows
him to make sense of the claim that mathematical truths can in some cases be
known a priori while still doing justice to the fallibility of even the greatest
mathematicians that should have been obvious to any attentive observer.
Finally, Bolzano's precise distinctions between physical objects, sensa-
tions, ideas, ideas of ideas, ideas subordinate to other ideas, etc., put him in a
position to state received theories of perception far more distinctly than any of
his contemporaries. Though he sometimes lapses into the confused language
of the time, there can be no doubt that he introduced the concepts, and the
degrees of freedom that come with them, required to give an adequate char-
acterisation of traditional sense-data epistemology. Whatever one thinks of
those theories, Bolzano's presentation of them has to rank as one of the most
clear and precise. And once one has mastered his distinctions, the confusions
present in earlier writers (as well as his own occasional slips) become as plain
as day.
1Cf. §332, no. 6.
xx vii
 Introduction to Volume Three
Book Four: The Art of Discove1y
Although Bolzano calls Book four the Art of Discovery, he admits from
the start that this title is too grand for its contents. He does not, he tells us,
aim at producing a complete, all-purpose manual teaching us how to discover
all truths and solve all problems, but only the parts of such an account that
bear directly on the aims of the Theory of Science, i.e., the organisation and
presentation of scientific information. There is to be, in particular, no discus-
sion of methods peculiar to any special science. In this respect, Bolzano's Art
of Discovery is far less concrete than, for example, Polya's twentieth-century
classics on mathematical heuristics. 1
Now the art of problem-solving seems to resist being boiled down to a
handful of general principles. For different kinds of problems, different ap-
proaches are often called for, something that can lend a treatment of heuristics
the appearance of a miscellany. (Polya, in his How to Solve it, hit upon the
happy idea of including a "Dictionary of Heuristic".) There is ce1tainly less
systematic structure in this part of the The01y of Science than in the others,
something that will be reflected in our introductory remarks.
Bolzano characterises his work in Book four as follows:
I in no way believe myself able to point out procedures to be fol-
lowed in reflection which have not been long observed by every
competent thinker, nor do I promise anything novel. Rather, I
have striven to set out in clear terms the various rules and pro-
cedures that talented thinkers have followed, for the most part
without being aware of doing so. And although I do not flatter
myself with the hope that I have been completely successful in
this, I nevertheless believe that the little one finds here will not be
unwelcome to many, and shall find its application in the sequel. 2
The main features of his method are set out in the first part (§§325-348).
We are to begin by attempting to become as clear as possible concerning the
aim of our reflection, what it is exactly that we are attempting to discover
(§325). At this point, it is worth asking whether we can tell without a great
deal of trouble whether the problem is beyond our capacities (§326). We
then see if the problem before us might be reduced to several other, simpler
ones and, if so, we work on these (§327). Here, a variety of methods may
1G.
Polya, How to Solve it (New York: Doubleday, 1957); Mathematics and Plausible
Reasoning, 2 Vols. (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1954), among others.
2 §322 [III.295].
xx viii
Introduction to Volume Three
be employed. Prominent among these are the direct and indirect methods
(the synthetic and analytic methods of the ancients) and their subspecies, no-
tably reduction to absurdity (§§328-329). These various methods may also
be combined in a single inquiry (§330). Observation and experiment may
contribute something here, as may the judgements of other people or even
our own earlier judgements (§§331-332). Considerable stress is placed upon
the importance of devising a suitable notation (signs for our ideas) and the
errors that may arise due to an unsuitable choice (§§334-344).
Once a possible solution to a problem has been found, we should examine
it, along with any proofs of its correctness, counterarguments, etc. (§§347-
348; on proofs, cf. §§370-376). Should a proposed solution survive this test,
it is useful to consider whether it may be generalised (§391), etc.
This general presentation (Part I) is followed by a second part devoted to
specific kinds of problems. Here, we <u-e given advice on how to discover
suitable problems in the first place, and how to approach various kinds of
these.
Several of these discussions are particularly noteworthy. §§350 and 366
deal with the analysis of subjective ideas and propositions; 1 §§367-368 with
the recognition of logical properties and relations such as analyticity, de-
ducibility, and equivalence. §352 tells us how to determine whether or not a
given idea has an object. Especially interesting here are Bolzano's extremely
liberal views on non-actual (or abstract) objects. Determining the causes of
given kinds of effects is the subject of several lengthy paragraphs (§§379 ff.).
Here, we find a workmanlike presentation of techniques probably best known
as Mill's methods. 2 Finally, several sections are devoted to the problems of
determining the judgements of others and interpreting signs (§§385 ff.), a
subject to which we shall return.
Book four continues some of the epistemological discussions of Book
three. Bolzano pushes back against the somewhat exaggerated individualism
of much early modern epistemology, repeatedly stressing the importance of
consulting the judgements of others in inquiry. How we should do this is dis-
cussed in §331. By and large, he says, we will do well to attempt to solve the
problem ourselves before considering the opinions of others. If, after reach-
ing a conclusion on our own, we find that other people, known to be credible
from other cases, agree with us, this will rightly strengthen our conviction.
If we find dissenting views held by credible people, this should reduce our
1See also Bolzano's treatment in "On the Mathematical Method," §§ 10-11; pp. 59-68 in
On the Mathematical Method and Correspondence with Exner (Amsterdam: Rodopi, 2004).
2
John Stuart Mill, A System of Logic, 2 Vols. (London, 1843), Book III, Chapter viii.
xxix
 Introduction to Volume Three
confidence in our judgement. "Here we should set ourselves the law never
to assume that someone is wrong unless we know how to explain (or at least
have tried to explain) how the error might have arisen, or unless we have
found that it would be far more improbable to say that it is not he who is in
error but those opposed to him." 1 He gives the following example:
Suppose that we have just calculated that the ratio of the diam-
eter of a circle to its circumference is 1 : 3 .14 l. ... We then
learn from a variety of books that others have sought this ratio in
the most diverse ways, and attained the same result, but that the
few who have sought it and claimed to find a different answer do
not agree with each other. Moreover, the former all claim to be
able to indicate the place where the latter have erred, and even
some of the latter have come to agree with them. In this case, I
claim, we may justifiably break off our examination without first
having learned of the grounds that the opponents have put forth
in support of their differing answer. For we may know in ad-
vance that at best (i.e., if we cannot see their incorrectness) these
grounds would not have a high enough degree of probability as
those which we have already mustered for the correctness of our
calculation. We could not reject this unless events completely
out of our control were to occur, namely, until people tell us with
the same or nearly the same degree of unanimity that the previ-
ous calculation was false, and explain at the same time how it
could have come about that so many made the same mistake. 2
A special case occurs when we encounter what Bolzano calls pronounce-
ments of common sense. He describes these as judgements concerning mat-
ters that all people are in a position competently to decide (not requiring spe-
cialised knowledge, equipment, or experiments, etc.), where the conclusion
reached does not "flatter our inclinations but rather places limits on them,"
and where unanimity or near-unanimity reigns. In such cases, he argues, we
may feel a degree of confidence approaching certainty in our judgements.
This criterion is applied especially in the case of moral and religious judge-
ments.3
Bolzano's remarks here are reminiscent of Aristotle's observations on the
opinions of the many and the opinions of the wise (b8o~u)-he himself finds
1§331, no. 2 [III.335-6].
2 §332, note [III.343.4].
3 §331, no. 4; ef. Bolzano's Lehrbuch der Religionswissenschaft (Sulzbach, 1834; new ed.
by J. Louzil in BBGA, Series 1, Vols. 6-8), I, § 14, no. 7.
xxx
Introduction to Volume Three
a statement of his view on the pronouncements of common sense already in
Heraclitus. The social character of inquiry is clear throughout, something that
is especially striking in view of the fact that the topic of Book four is solitary
reflection.
Cartesian skepticism is discussed at some length in §332. Here, Bolzano
maintains that because judgement is not voluntary, doubt cannot be either.
In addition, there are some truths it would be highly unwise to doubt even
if we could. Descartes should rather have said (and perhaps meant) that we
ought to examine our previously formed judgements-not, indeed, all of them
(which is impossible in any case), but at most those that can be examined
using premises that are deemed more reliable than they.
§§370-376 are dedicated to proofs and their flaws. The subject was some-
thing of a specialty for Balzano, a pioneer of foundational research in math-
ematics who made a habit of studying all the proofs of important theorems
he could lay his hands on. After distinguishing formal and material flaws of
proofs, he presents several indicators of the incorrectness of proofs. The first
of these runs as follows: if the conclusion of a proof is false, there must be
something wrong with the proof. 1 In the case of universal generalisations, he
notes, a single contrary instance is enough to establish their falsity. This may
strike most readers today as too obvious to bother stating. Not so-rather,
it reflects important changes in the practice of mathematics taking place in
the early nineteenth century, to which Bolzano contributed materially. In the
eighteenth century, especially in the fields of algebra and infinitesimal analy-
sis, the predominant mathematical culture was closer to that of engineering.
Procedures that did not work in absolutely every case were still taught and
accepted if they worked in many and especially the most important ones.
Proofs would be offered for such theorems, while at the same time all in-
volved recognised that there were "exceptions" to the "generally valid" the-
orem. Lagrange's entire approach to the calculus, as set out in his Theorie
des fonctions analytiques and Ler;ons sur le ca/cul des fonctions, for exam-
ple, was based upon an assumption he knew full well to be false, namely, that
every function is representable as a power series (i.e., the Taylor series for the
function):
f"(a) f(n) (a)
f(a+h) = f(a) +hf'(a) +h2 - - + ... +h11 + ...
2! n!
Around Bolzano's time, a number of mathematicians started looking at
things in a different way. Exceptions that were thought not to vitiate the
1
§373.
xx xi
 Introduction to Volume Three
general validity of a theorem started to be looked upon as counterexamples
that did. 1 Looking for and constructing counterexamples thus became a stan-
dard part of mathematical research, important in foundational work but also
elsewhere. In his mathematical writings, Balzano showed himself to be a
master of this art, using it to refine his definitions and arrive at more precise
statements of theorems. Among other things, he constructed functions that
are everywhere discontinuous or continuous at exactly one point, continuous
functions that oscillate infinitely often in a finite interval, functions that are
not monotone in any neighbourhood of a given point, or on any subinterval
of a given interval, and even a continuous, nowhere differentiable function
(perhaps the first fractal in the history of mathematics). 2 All of these coun-
terexamples showed widely held beliefs to be false, and any proofs offered for
them were at the same time revealed as inevitably flawed. Tracing the faults
in these often quite convincing proofs became a means for making important
discoveries that could be applied not just to restate the given "theorem" and
give it a proper proof, but in other contexts as well.
The second criterion is a traditional one: a proof that proves too much
proves nothing. 3 Bolzano's example in the The01y of Science is drawn from
religion:
An example where this indicator of untenability is easily per-
ceived is the well-known proof whereby the opponents of Chris-
tian revelation wish to show that mankind has no need of this
revelation, because if we did, it would already have to be uni-
versally known. In order to show that this inference is incorrect,
we need only inquire whether there is any knowledge that no one
would deny to be necessary for the human race, and yet which is,
like Christianity, not universally acknowledged. The example of
natural religion occurs to us immediately, since its necessity for
mankind is acknowledged in precisely the same sense that the
necessity of revelation is claimed, even though natural religion
is only found in the appropriate purity and completeness in a few
people. Thus we see that the above proof for the dispensability
of revelation must be flawed, since, if it were correct, we could
claim the dispensability of natural religion on equal grounds. 4
1
Cf. H. K. S0rensen, "Exceptions and counterexamples. Understanding Abel's comment
on Cauchy's Theorem." Historia Mathematica 32 (2005) 453-480.
2 Cf. Bolzano's F11nctionenlehre (BBGA, Series 2A, Vol. 10/1); Eng. tr. by S. B. Russ in
The Mathematical Works of Bernard Balzano (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004).
3 §374.
4 2 §375.
§374 [III.474].
xx xii
Introduction to Volume Three
Again, however, he had many good mathematical examples that he did
not mention. One of these was discussed in his 1816 paper on the bino-
mial series. In the works of eighteenth-century mathematicians, infinite se-
ries were subjected to a variety of transformations which often enough led
to important discoveries, Newton's general binomial series prominent among
them. At same time, an attentive consideration of the proofs offered for this
and related theorems often revealed that all the steps were framed in such a
way as to cover all values of the variable. Equations such as:
l
-- = 1+x+x2 +x3 +x4 + · · ·
1-x
for example, were derived without any mention of conditions required for
exact, numerical equality. Thus, alongside equations such as:
1 1 1 1
- - =2= 1+-+-+-+···
1-~ 2 4 8
the proof would apparently also license us to conclude:
l 1
--- = - = 1-10+ 100-1000+ ...
(-10) 11
a claim before which, as Bolzano remarked, "sound human understanding
shrinks in horror." 1 Clearly, he thought, something had gone badly wrong-
the proof proves too much.
A third indicator follows: if a certain condition occurs in the statement
of the theorem and this condition is essential in the sense that removing it
would result in a false proposition, the proof must appeal to this condition
at some point; if it does not, something must be wrong. 2 Balzano spots this
flaw in Euclid's proof of Elements, I, 22. This theorem states that, given three
straight lines A, B, C, any two of which are together longer than the third,
it is possible to construct a triangle with sides whose lengths equal those
of A,B,C. Euclid carefully notes that the stated condition is indispensable.
Yet, Balzano observes, he doesn't use it anywhere in his proof, which must
accordingly be flawed.
In this case, as in many others, we see that the third indicator is inti-
mately related to the second-for Euclid's proof of I, 22 should apply to any
three lines, and thus proves too much. Conversely, the flawed nature of many
1 Der binomische Lehrsat;:, (Prague, 1816), Preface.
xx xiii
 Introduction to Volume Three
proofs of theorems about power series could also be detected by noting that
they made no use of an essential condition on the variable x. In the example
mentioned above, for instance, the equation:
_I_I_= 1 +x+x2 +x3 +x4 + ...
x that certain thoughts arise in his mind. If the communication is successful
is only valid if the absolute value of x is less than one, and a correct proof
must make use of this condition somewhere.
A final indicator involves appeals to empirical findings. 1 If a given ques-
tion is of the sort that experience cannot decide (in line with prevailing us-
age, Balzano calls these transcendental), a proof that makes essential use of
empirical premises must be flawed. On the other hand, a priori proofs for
propositions that can only be decided by experience must also contain some
mistake. Propositions of the first sort include the claims that substances are
eternal and that some of our actions are free in the sense that they have no
determining cause; 2 the homeopathic principle is an example of the second
kind of proposition. 3
Volume three also contains a wealth of material on what would today
be called philosophy of language. In §285 of Book three, Balzano had in-
troduced the concept of a sign, which he defines as an object that is wont
to stimulate a ce1tain idea (i.e., an idea of the sign) that is associated with
another idea (the signification [Bedeutung] of the sign).
Sign
stimulates signifies
Idea awakens via Signified
of Idea
Sign --as-so-c-ia-tio_n_ _.,
At that point, he defined a number of concepts (e.g., understanding or misun-
derstanding a sign, interpreting given signs), and distinguished several kinds
1 §376.
2 §369
3 §376.
xx xiv
Introduction to Volume Three
of meanings: original and derivative, determinate and indeterminate, proper
and improper, tropical (symbolic, figurative, metaphorical), etc.
In the most straightforward case, communication is conceived as a matter
of encoding and decoding, a speaker with certain thoughts producing signs
intended to be perceived by another, who then interprets them, with the result
(the signs are understood), then speaker and listener have, if not identical, at
least equal ideas, in the sense that their respective subjective ideas correspond
to the same ideas in themselves. Ideas containing intuitions, however, pose a
difficulty for this conception, since they are both unrepeatable and incommu-
nicable. Bolzano addresses this point later, in Volume four:
[I]t is certainly well-founded to say that a single empirical truth
grasped by one person can never be completely grasped by a
second person, nor indeed by the same person at another time.
Strictly speaking, it is no longer the same proposition that I put
forward when I now say that Alexander was born roughly 2190
years ago (before this instant) as when I said this an hour ago.
For the intuition of that which I presently feel or think that lies
in the words "before this instant" is now different from that of an
hour ago. Similarly for the propositions "Sirius is a fixed star,"
inasmuch as the intuitions found in the idea "Sirius" are different
for every man. But these differences will be seen not to matter
here, and so can be disregarded. To say that we have commu-
nicated the truths contained in these propositions to the reader,
it suffices that he form ideas that, if not composed of the same
intuitions as ours, are nevertheless equivalent to them, i.e., that
he thinks of the same object (the same subject), and attributes
the same property (the same predicate) to it that we do. Thus
in the first example it will be sufficient if our reader connects an
idea with the word "Alexander" that in fact refers only to this
Macedonian king, and learns that this man was born 2190 years
before the year this was written. Thus understood, there can be
no doubt that empirical truths can also be communicated .... 1
Towards the end of Book four, Balzano returns to the subject of interpre-
tation. This he defines as follows:
By inte1pretation I mean nothing other than an indication of the
ideas which someone intended to stimulate by producing certain
1
§410, note [IV. 48-49).
xx xv
 Introduction to Volume Three
signs (§285); and the word "indicate" means either the produc-
tion of these ideas in one's own consciousness, or the production
of certain other signs which are better known than the given ones
or belong to a different system of signs, and at the same time
serve to stimulate the same ideas which the original producer of
the former signs had intended. 1
Thus translation or paraphrase counts as interpretation alongside decoding.
It is not the business of interpretation, he adds, to determine which ideas
the speaker had in mind, but rather which ideas he intended to produce in
the minds of his listeners. We interpret a liar correctly, for example, when
we determine which thoughts he meant us to form, even when he himself
harbours quite different ones.
Bolzano presents a number of techniques of interpretation, and points out
a number of variations on the theme of straightforward communication: the
speaker may intend to convey multiple meanings with given signs (as with
a double entendre or when someone wants different parts of his audience
to understand him differently), he may be deliberately obscure or, still worse,
not really attempting to speak but rather merely trying to appear like someone
who does. 2
So far, this is mostly standard fare. But something quite new and un-
expected turns up when Bolzano comes to speak of what he calls testify-
ing. Roughly speaking, to testify in his sense is to attempt to communicate. 3
Somewhat more precisely, it is to perform actions with the intention of caus-
ing someone else to form certain beliefs. He offers the following definition:
An act which someone performs with precisely the intention that
we, if we follow our best insight, will conclude from perceiving
it that it is his will that we accept the proposition M, because he
1§387
[III.543).
2 upon it as something revealed by God. Thus we misinterpret di-
In these less polite days, the last case is sometimes called bullshitting. Balzano found it
increasingly common in the German philosophical literature of his time.
3 we falsely stamp with the seal of divine testimony opinions of
In modern English, the word 'testify' is clearly not an ideal choice for the concept Bal-
zano is interested in-perhaps 'assure' would be a better fit with his intentions. The word he
uses, bezeugen, is just as unsuitable in modern German. Adelung (Grammatisch-kritisches
Worterbuch der hochdeutschen Mundart (Vienna, 1808), Art. "Bezeugen"), however, records
a variety of archaic uses of this word that are much closer to Bolzano's meaning; the majority
of his citations are from the Luther Bible. In the King James version, too, 'testify' is used
occasionally in something like Bolzano's sense. As noted below, Balzano originally thought
about these matters in the course of his theological work. In this respect, his selection of
'bezeugen' is not surprising.
xx xvi
Introduction to Volume Three
himself holds it to be true, is usually called test(fying in favour
of this proposition. 1
As Carsten Gieske pointed out, Bolzano's conception bears more than a pass-
ing resemblance to Grice's much better known analysis of non-natural mean-
ing.2 The notion is important for the purposes of Volume three because the
te;timony of others is the source of a significant proportion of our beliefs.
Most of the ideas Bolzano presents here were originally worked out in
his Treatise of the Science of Religion. 3 There, he was concerned to clarify
what might be meant by saying that that God communicates with someone, in
particular, when, if ever, it makes sense to speak of a divine revelation. Some
of this highly interesting material is touched upon towards the end of Volume
three. 4 One point especially seems worthy of note here. If God is supposed
to be an absolutely perfect being, then all of His actions will of necessity
conform to the highest moral law, i.e., will promote the well-being of all His
creatures as much as possible. This also applies to any cases of supposed di-
vine communication. In particular, if God testifies to X, i.e., produces events
with the intention that we, if we follow our best insight, will gather from
observing them that it is God's will that we accept X, the consequences of
accepting this belief must be good. It follows immediately that if believing
in a proposition produces demonstrably harmful consequences then it cannot
be divinely revealed. Someone cannot, for example, justifiably claim that he
may hate his neighbour because "permission to do this had been granted by a
special divine revelation." This has things backwards. "For in order to prove
the latter, we would have to prove the former, that hating one's neighbour is
permissible, and indeed morally good." 5 In a sermon from 1817, Bolzano
had further developed this point:
Only if we can recognise in advance that accepting and following
a teaching will bring benefit to ourselves and others can we look
vine revelation, we extend its teachings farther than is justified,
1§306, no. 15 [III.203]; cf. §388.
2 C. Gieske, "Bolzano's notion of testifying," Grazer philosophische Studien 53 (1997)
249-266.
3
Lehrbuch der Religionswissenschaft, 4 Vols. (Sulzbach: Seidel, 1834; new ed. by J. Lol!Zil
in BBGA, Series I, Vols. 6/1-8/3). See, especially, I, §§28ff, 135 ff.
4
See especially §§386-388.
5
§371, no. 1 [III.464].
xxxvn
 Introduction to Volume Three

our own invention, as soon as we allow ourselves to deduce con-

sequences from revealed doctrine when it cannot be shown on
purely rational grounds that adopting and following them would
be beneficial. Nothing which cannot be shown to be good and
generally beneficial without the teachings of religion should be
claimed to be true on its behalf. 1
Dr. B. Bolzano's
Detailed critical and historical remarks constantly accompany Bolzano's
presentation of his own views in Volume three. Among other things, he dis-
cusses innate ideas, traditional empiricism, Molyneux's problem, the Carte-
sian method of doubt, and the alleged limits of our knowledge. Berkeley and
THEORY OF SCIENCE
Tetens are discussed at some length, as are the ideologues (mainly Destutt
de Tracy) and Herbart. Two extensive sections are devoted entirely to Kant, Attempt at a
and cover considerable parts of his system. 2 Along with his remarks else-
where in the The01y of Science, these constitute one of the most thorough and Detailed and in the main Novel Exposition
well-grounded responses to the Critical Philosophy ever written. 3
of

LOGIC
With Constant Attention to Earlier Authors

Edited

by

Several of his friends

Volume 3
1"Von den MiBbrauchen der Religion," Erbauungsreden, Vol. 3 (Prague and Vienna, 185 l ),
no. xiii, p. I I 1-112.
2 §§305, 315. Sulzbach
3 Bolzano's student Pffhonsky later collected these remarks, adding additional explanations
J. E. v. Seidel Publishing
as he saw fit, to produce his book Neuer Anti-Kant; ode1; Priifimg der Kritik der reinen Ver-
nunft nach den in Bolzano's Wissenschaftslehre niedergelegten Begrijfen (Bautzen, 1850); new 1837
edition by E. Morscher and Ch. Thiel in Franz Pffhonsky, Neuer Anti-Kant und Atomenlehre
des seligen Bolzano (St. Augustin: Academia, 2003).

xxxviii

Sed nil dulcius est, bene quam munita tenere
Edita doctrina sapientum temp/a serena:
Despicere unde queas alios, passimque videre
Errare, atque viam palantis quaerere vitae,
Certan: ingenio, contender-e nobilitate,
Noctes atque dies niti, praestante labore
Ad summas emergere opes, rerumque potiri.
LUCRETIUS, de natura rerum, II, v. 7-15. 1
But nothing sweeter is than this: to dwell
In quiet halls and lofty sanctuaries
Well fortified by doctrines of the wise,
And look thence down on others wandering
And seeking all astray the path of life
The clash of intellects, the fight for honours,
The lust for wealth, the efforts night and day
With toil and sweat to scale the heights of power.
A new verse translation by Sir Ronald Melville (Oxford: Clarendon Press,
1997), p. 36.
Book Three:
THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE
§.269.*
Purpose, contents, and divisions of this book
In §15, I already noted the twofold aim which I think makes it necessary
for a treatise of logic to say something about the conditions underlying
the knowledge of truths, especially for us humans. Only as much as is
required for this purpose shall be dealt with here, thus only enough to
allow us to see the correctness of the rules that shall be set out in the
following parts concerning the discovery of individual truths through the
process of reflection, the division of these truths in special sciences, and
the appropriate written presentation of them. But as every cognition is a
judgement, and every judgement in turn consists of ideas, I shall first have
to speak of ideas (namely, subjective ideas), then of judgements. Since,
in addition, only true judgements merit the name of cognitions, I shall
have to take into consideration the relation our judgements have to the
truth, inquire into the sources of errnr, and into the limits of our cognitive
faculties. Since, finally, the question of r-eliability arises for all our judge- 4
ments, and hence also for those we present in scientific expositions, I
shall say a few words about this matter. Accordingly, the doctrines of this
book are divided into four chapters, the first dealing with our ideas, the
second with our judgements, the third with the relations of our judgement
to truth, and the fourth, finally, with the confidence of our judgements. I
must apologise for the title "theory of knowledge" just as I did previously
for the title "theory of fundamentals". On this subject, the observations
made in § 17 could be repeated here. 5

PART I
Of Ideas
§.270.*
The concept of an idea in the subjective sense
When attempting to reach an understanding concerning the concept of an
idea in itself in §48, I already found it necessary to present the concept of
an idea in the subjective sense at the same time. There I explained what
I meant by the expressions: a subjective or thought idea, or an idea that
one has. Hence after all that has been said there it will scarcely be neces-
sary to recall that I by no means use the word idea in the narrower sense
according to which the object of an idea must always be absent, or even
constituted more or less differently than the idea portrays it. In this sense,
we might say "My brother, who stands before me, I see, but my sister,
who is elsewhere, I can only represent in an idea [vorstellen]"; or "It is
not just your imagination [Vorstellung], I actually .... " As necessary as
it may be in many respects to distinguish ideas of this kind, those to which
either no object at all or else no present object coITesponds, from the oth-
ers which have such an object and which arise in our minds through the
activity of these objects, the aims of logic require that we take the word
idea in the wider sense which includes both of these kinds and in general
6 everything that can occur as a constituent in a judgement, without itself
forming a complete judgement. Just as in the earlier paii the qualification
"in itself" was not always added to the word "idea'', though we always
meant ideas in themselves, so too here I shall try always to use the word
"idea" to think of subjective ideas, i.e., the grasping or appearance of
what I above called an idea in itself by and in the mind of a thinking
being. I mention in passing that the capacity of our souls to produce sub-
jective ideas under certain circumstances is called its cognitive faculty or
cognitive power.
Note 1. The confusion in the use of idea and other related words such
as intuition and concept reached its pinnacle when it occurred to someone
to ascribe a ceitain movement to ideas, and to speak of ideas being trans-
formed into their opposites. It would be a futile waste of time to attempt
to enter into a discussion of the concepts people connect with these ways
of speaking since, given the custom of our time never to define anything
precisely, it is all but impossible to form a distinct notion of something
whose inventor never himself thought clearly. Read, for example, what
2 3
Of Ideas
HEGEL Jays out about concepts in general in 32 pages of the 3rd volume
. h .. Logic and try to make sense of it! I would rather make good here
0 f IS f
'
the promise I made in §52, no. 11 concerning HE.RBART's defirntlon o
. .
ideas. This definition is based upon two assumptions, namely, th~t ev-
ery simple substance can have only one single quality, ~nd th.at no ~nnple
being may undergo change. I have already spoken of .the first assump-
tion in the note to §64. Concerning the second, many philosophers before
HERBART strove to find an inner contradiction in the concept of change.
For example, they claimed to find a contradiction in the claim that the
altered thing "must be the same but not the same after the change." But
does one really say this when one says that a thing A changes? In my
0 inion, the propositions expressed in such cases really run as foll.ows: 7
"~ at time t has the attribute b" and "A at time (t + 8) has the attribute
non-b." There is no contradiction between these propositions, since the
subject-ideas "A at time t" and "A at time (t + 8) are dif~erent .<§ 183).
They also say "what a changeable thing is cannot be deterr:imed eithe~, by
the attribute that it has before the change nor by the one it has after. It
seems to me that one must distinguish different senses of the term "what"
here. In one sense, it applies to any attribute that belongs to a thing at
a given time. In this sense, both b and non-b can b.e said to b~ what ~he
thing is. In another sense, what a thing is, or what its essence is, apph~s
only to attributes which belong to it at all times. In this sense, what ~ is
is neither b nor non-b, but rather a, that is, the abstractum coffespondmg
to the concretum A (§60). When they now say that "when the what disap-
pears, the being disappears as well," I counter that this only hol.ds ':hen
"what" means the essence, but this does not change when the thmg is al-
tered. If one objects that every change requires us to think of an infinite
sequence of conditions that have already passed, I say that this. thought
contains nothing contradictory, provided that one abandons the mcoffect
concept of an infinite multitude as one that can never be increased (§87).
If people find it absurd that "there are infinite sequences of causes, none
of which acts of itself, but which would only act if triggered," I say that
we need not think of causes that would act, but rather only such as do
in fact act since the circumstances under which they can act are actu-
ally prese~t. If one thinks that "any interposition of so~1ething ~~tive in
something passive" is already nonsensical "because neither .act1.v1ty ~or
passivity can be thought of as the proper quality of that wh1c~ 1~ active
or passive," I counter that it already lies in the concept of a fimte sub-
stance that it is endowed with powers through which it can act to change
 THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE§. 271.
others, and be changed in turn by their reaction-accordingly, one cannot
say that activity and passivity are not proper qualities of these substances.
8 Thus I find no tenable reason for the claim that the concept of change
(properly understood) contains a contradiction. But even if this were the
case, I still would not understand how people could say that ideas are the
only things which genuinely occur-for if there is no genuine change,
nothing genuinely occurs. And how can one speak of disturbances which
would happen, if it is impossible for one object to act upon and disturb an-
other? Here too, therefore, I must admit that I fear I have misunderstood
HERBART.
Note 2. When I use the words faculty and power as equivalent, this is
not because I am unaware of the distinction between the two, but rather
because that distinction is not worth bringing up here. For everything
that we call a power of a finite being is not the complete, but only the
partial cause of what we call its effect, and hence the latter is not pro-
duced by the former alone, but only in the proper conditions. Concerning
Professor HERBART's abhorrence of the terms powers of representation,
judgement, recall, etc., I admit that it is mistaken to believe that the mere
introduction of these terms provides an explanation of how ideas, judge-
ments, memories, etc., arise. Yet these terms are not to be discarded for
this reason alone.
§.271.*
For eve1y subjective idea there is a corresponding idea in itself
We must now consider several attributes which all subjective ideas have
in common. One of the first is that for each such idea there is a corre-
sponding idea in itself, the former being the manifestation [Erscheinung]
of the latter. This was already contained in the concept of a subjective
idea we indicated above. It is also clear from the following considera-
9 tions. If a certain subjective idea A is to be actually present in the mind
of a thinking being, then the proposition 'This being has the idea A" is a
truth and, indeed, even if there is no one who thinks this truth, i.e., it is a
truth in itself. So too the constituents of this proposition are just so many
ideas in themselves. But it is obvious that the idea A must itself occur
in this proposition-not the subjective idea, but rather the corresponding
objective one. One may, as I have already done in §48 and elsewhere,
call the objective idea the matter of the subjective idea to which it corre-
sponds (i.e., the appearance of the former in the mind), but one should not
confuse this matter either with the object the idea may apply to, nor with
the parts of which the idea is composed. By the object of a subjective
4 5
Of Ideas
idea I mean exactly the same thing as I do by the object of an objective
idea, namely, that which is represented through this idea. There are, as
one knows, such objects for many, though not for all ideas (§66), and the
object of a subjective idea is always the same as the object of the cor-
responding objective idea. A subjective idea, however, can never lack a
matter, while an objective idea has no matter-rather it is the matter of
the former. Thus the subjective idea of a round square indeed has a mat-
ter, namely, the objective idea of a round square; yet there is no object
to which either of these ideas (the subjective or the objective) applies.
Still less should one confuse the matter of a subjective idea with its parts,
which are other ideas.
Note. Because the distinction between subjective and objective ideas
has only rarely been touched upon, the need for a term to designate the
concept I here call matter was not felt. I concede in advance that the term
is not really suitable, and only wish someone could find a better one. For lO
matter [Stoff] actually means the same as material [Materie] and content.
But I have already used the latter to designate a quite different concept,
and it is to be feared that the first expression will tend to make people
think of what they usually think by the last.
§.272.*
Every subjective idea is something actual, but only
in that it is a kind of property of a being
I) A second attribute that belongs to all subjective ideas is that they are
something actual, i.e., that they may make claim to existence at a deter-
minate time in the mind of a determinate being. It indeed seems that this
is occasionally denied, when people say "that such and such is not real,
but only an idea." Closer consideration reveals, however, that such ex-
pressions mean to say only that no outer object corresponds to the idea in
actuality. One does not intend to say that the idea itself is not the kind of
thing that is actual. Rather, one here makes a kind of opposition between
the mere idea and something actual only insofar as the idea is said not to
be the actual thing which would be its object (if it had one).
2) To me at least it seems obvious that every subjective idea merits the
name of an actual thing-but one which belongs to the species of actual
things which occur only as attributes* in some other actual thing, which
*Where the word is taken in such a broad sense that even states which pass by very
quickly are said to be attributes-namely, of the beings in which they occur during that
time.
 THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE§. 273.
we accordingly do not call substances, but rather adherences. For there
ll can be no subjective ideas if there are no beings which have them, and
they exist only as phenomena in the minds of these beings. Thus we may
well call them a kind of attribute found in such beings. But we cannot call
them substances, i.e., something that subsists (as one says) by itself (i.e.,
not in something else). This seems to me to be true quite generally, so that
I would even like to see it applied to the ideas that Goel has. Thus I can
in no way agree with those who ascribe a kind of substantiality to God's
ideas, in that they claim that the substances of the universe are nothing
other than these divine ideas. In my view, the world owes its existence not
to God's power of representation, but rather to his power of creation. His
powers of representation encompass far more than the things which are
actual, including the merely possible things whose elevation to existence
would be contrary to his purposes, and even the impossible. But it is only
these ideas, and not their objects, which have actuality merely through
His ideation.
3) Since we distinguish two kinds of attributes, the inner and the outer,
or properties and relations (§80), it may be asked to which of these two
kinds the ideas of a being belong. I believe they belong to the inner
attributes, for what can be more internal to a being than its ideas? It
sounds odd, I admit, to say that the ideas that a being has are attributes,
and indeed properties of this being, but this is the case because ordinary
usage connects a certain associated concept with these words, which we
have omitted in order to produce a wider concept better suited to the needs
of science. In ordinary speech, not everything that an object has at one
moment or another is called an attribute or a pmperty of the thing, but
rather only that which it retains for a longer stretch of time and is more
12 or less enduring. Since ideas are usually of short duration, and can be
displaced by others, it is understandable that people have not called them
attributes or properties.
§.273.
What the author means by a single subjective idea, and by
saying that several subjective ideas are equal or unequal
The explanations we have given so far of the concept of a subjective idea
are not sufficient to determine what we must view as a single idea, and
what as several ideas, nor when we may declare that several ideas are
equal or unequal.
6 7
Of Ideas
1) Given that I say that a subjective idea is nothing other than the
appearance of an objective idea in the mind of a thinking being, it is ob-
viously determined that we must assume that there are at least as many
subjective ideas as there are objective ideas which thus appear, and also
as many subjective ideas as there are beings in which they occur. I must
certainly distinguish the subjective idea I have of this tree from the sub-
jective idea I have (perhaps at the same time) of the song of this lark, for I
certainly look upon the objective ideas of these two objects as distinct. It
is equally obvious that we must look upon the idea that I have of this tree,
and the idea my companion has of this object, not as one single idea, but
rather as two different ones, regardless of any agreement there might be
between them. But because every subjective idea must be actual at some
determinate time, it may well be asked whether one should assume that
there are as many subjective ideas in me as there are moments at which
it may be said that something appears in me? Obviously, it would be in- 13
appropriate to assume that there are many subjective ideas in cases where
one and the same objective idea appears in the mind of a thinking being
throughout an entire finite interval of time (thus at infinitely many distinct
instants), always in exactly the same way, and in the same combinations.
In a being whose inner attributes cannot change in the slightest, as is the
case with God, we will recognise only as many subjective ideas as there
are objective ideas [corresponding to them]. Things are different with us
humans, who are so changeable that we never remain in the same state
for the smallest time. Even an idea which appears in our mind does not
remain completely unaltered for any period of time. It is clear from this
that it would not be appropriate to assume that there are as many subjec-
tive ideas in us as there are times or instants of which it may be said that
we then have one and the same idea albeit in different ways. It is best to
look upon the time during which one and the same objective idea appears
·without interruption (even if it appears in different ways), as the dura-
tion of one single subjective idea; and only to speak of several subjective
ideas when either the same objective idea occurs in the same mind, but
with interruptions, when it appears in the minds of different beings, or
when the objective ideas which constitute their matter are different.
2) Once we agree when to consider certain ideas numerically distinct,
there still remains the problem of when to call them equal or unequal.
Obviously, we cannot call them equal if their matter is different. For
since the matter to which a subjective idea c01responds, i.e., the objective 14
idea which makes its appearance, is certainly the most important thing,
 THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE§. 274.
no one would want to call a pair of subjective ideas equal if they belonged
to different objective ideas, no matter how similar they might be in other
respects. Thus when I speak of equal ideas in the future, the reader should
think at the very least that these are ideas belonging to the same objective
idea. Circumstances may also arise where this equality is extended to
cover some other attributes as well-which ones will be sufficiently clear
from the context. Occasionally I shall permit myself the use of a common
expression and say of two equal ideas appearing in the same being at dif-
ferent times that they are a single idea-to say, for instance, that someone
now has once again an idea he had before. By this I shall mean only that
he now has an idea which is equal to one he had before, i.e., belongs to
the same objective idea.
Note. It seems to me that the way I have applied the concepts of
identity and equality to subjective ideas agrees completely with what has
been done elsewhere, even though people do not usually go into such de-
tail. When we read that there are no equal ideas at all, this is said not
of subjective, but rather of objective ideas. But no one has ever denied
that ideas in the subjective sense can be equal to one another, and indeed
are so when one and the same object is thought of by several people by
means of the same characteristics, or repeatedly by the same person at
disconnected times. By contrast, when someone represents the same ob-
ject throughout an uninterrupted interval of time, one usually says that he
has only a single idea, even in cases where the way in which this idea
occurs does not remain the same (e.g., its clarity or vividness is altered).
15 Even in such cases, I say, people speak of only one idea, which has un-
dergone various changes during the time it endured-it may, for instance,
have been obscure at first, and later become clear.
§.274.
Can several equal ideas exist in a being at the same time?
In the previous section I supposed that there are equal ideas in one and the
same being, but I assumed this to be the case where these ideas appear in
the mind of the being at separate times. Thus it was tacitly assumed that
there are ideas which only endure for a limited time in finite beings. This
assumption might be questioned, and since I shall only later adduce the
reasons that show it to be correct, the reader may until that time accept
the above claims only conditionally. But even if someone ascribes an
infinite duration to all ideas while another thinks that some or all last
8 9
Of Ideas
only finitely long, both must certainly admit that we have several ideas
at the same time. For the former must claim this for all of our ideas,
while the latter can hardly deny, for instance, that whenever we form
a judgement A has b, the idea b does not only enter the mind after A
has already disappeared, for then we obviously could not perceive the
relation which holds between them.* But if there are simultaneous ideas
in general, one may also ask whether among them there be any of those
we called mutually equal in the previous section, i.e., those containing 16
the same objective idea. It is undeniable that one and the same objective
idea can appear repeatedly in many propositions. For example, in the
proposition "Every equilateral triangle is also equiangular", the concept
of equality as well as that of angle occurs twice. Thus one might think
that if someone is to form this judgement, the ideas of equality and of
an angle must be present twice, once in the subject-idea, and once in the
predicative part of this judgement. After closer consideration, however, it
seems more probable that only a single subjective idea occurs here, rather
than two equal ones. For why should we suppose there are many, when
we may reasonably suppose that the work to be performed by a subjective
idea (like angle in the above example) can be carried out by a single idea
acting in several relations, in much the same way that one and the same
point may belong to several intersecting lines?
§.275.*
Strength or vividness of subjective ideas
Since every subjective idea is, as such, something actual, and everything
actual acts, we may likewise attribute a kind of activity to all of our sub-
jective ideas. The nature of this activity will depend upon various cir-
cumstances. Much, for example, will depend upon the constitution of its
matter, i.e., the constitution of the objective idea whose appearance in the
mind of a thinking being is the subjective idea. Understandably, the idea
of a flower-bed must have different effects upon us than that of a snake
popping out of the flower-bed. Much, too, will depend on the nature of 17
the other ideas found in our soul alongside this one, and on the judge-
ments we form concerning the objects which stand under these ideas, i.e.,
on our beliefs. Thus the sight of a snake will bring about quite different
effects in us depending upon whether we take it to be harmful or not, etc.
*It is well known that J. G. FICHTE denies this, and CHR. WEIB (Unto: iiber d. Seele,
p. 18) believes that it contradicts the simplicity of the soul.
 THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE§. 275.
But because subjective ideas are quite different from the objective ideas
which constitute their matter (for the former are the appearance of the
latter), the subjective ideas must have some inner attribute by virtue of
which two ideas with the same matter, accompanied by the same ideas,
nevertheless produce different effects. I will call the strength or vividness
of a subjective idea that which, apart from the matter and the various other
ideas accompanying it, determines its activity. An idea which is stronger
than another will have a greater effect, even if they have the same mat-
ter and are accompanied by the same ideas. If, for example, we imagine
two men who have up to now had exactly the same ideas, and who now
acquire a new idea, which is the appearance of the same objective idea
(e.g., of a red beam of light), we may still imagine that their subjective
ideas are different, and consequently have different effects. This differ-
ence might stem, for instance, from the different relations between the
outer object which produced these ideas and the two men. Perhaps the
object was closer to one of them, or acted upon his visual organs for a
longer time. In any case, whenever we find that the two ideas produce
different effects in the minds of these men, we must conclude that there is
some inner difference between them; one must be declared stronger, the
18 other weaker.
Note. The concept to which I here give the name of strength or vivid-
ness is in my opinion exactly the same that common usage connects with
these words. But logicians have not always appropriately grasped it. Thus
ULRICH (Inst. Log. § 138, 146) considers vividness to be a kind of clarity.
Claritas duo sunt genera: distinctio et vividitas. 1 In my opinion, what I
have here called the vividness of an idea is a completely different attribute
from clarity, which I ascribe to an idea only if we form an intuition of it
(§280). Although I admit that the vividness of an idea encourages the
formation of an intuition of it, and thus contributes to raising the idea to
clarity, and even if I must admit that a certain degree of vividness will
always raise an idea to clarity, I must nevertheless distinguish the two, as
cause and effect. Still less can I approve of MAYER's claim (Uber den
Vernunftschluj3, Vol. I, p. 107 ff.) that the vividness of an idea is iden-
tical with its distinctness. The reasons MAYER gives prove at most that
distinctness may proceed from vividness, and that both are often found
together. PLATNER, too, did not express himself completely correctly
when he said (Aph01: §402, note) that a concept is vivid "if many ideas
not belonging to its determination (and also sensations) connected with
1
There are two kinds of clarity: distinctness and vividness.
1(!)
Of Ideas
it in memory are stirred up at the same time." The ideas which are con-
nected with a certain idea in memory, and thus stirred up at the same
time as it, do not for this very reason belong to the idea itself, and can-
not therefore determine its degree of vividness, which is one of its inner
attributes.
§.276.*
Classification of subjective ideas based upon the
corre~1ponding class(fication of objective ideas
For every subjective idea there is a corresponding objective idea which is
its matter. Understandably, then, we may distinguish as many different
kinds of subjective as objective ideas, and apply the same terms to the 19
former as we did to the latter. Just as, for example, we distinguished ab-
stract and concrete ideas in the theory of objective ideas, so too we may
make this distinction with respect to subjective ideas, and everyone will
gather from the name that by abstract or concrete subjective ideas we are
to understand nothing other than the grasping of objective ideas which are
either abstract or concrete. Thus it is unnecessary to enumerate and de-
fine divisions between subjective ideas which are based upon distinctions
between objective ideas bearing the same names. I shall only adduce a
few explicitly, since it must be shown that we human beings have such
subjective ideas at our disposal.
§.277.*
We have simple as well as complex ideas
One of the most important distinctions for subjective as well as objective
ideas is that between the simple and the complex. We must now show that
we are in possession of both simple and complex ideas.
It will not be easy for someone to deny that we are able to form com-
plex ideas given that we can point to so many examples of them. Who is
not aware, for example, that he has the idea of a rose or the concept of an
equilateral triangle? And are these ideas not indisputably complex? That
we have simple ideas, however, follows in my opinion from the fact that
we have complex ones. For the latter are composed of the former, and it
cannot be said that someone has a certain complex idea in his mind if he
does not have all the simple parts of which it is composed. 20
It is a separate question whether such simple ideas are ever the only
object occupying our mind at a given instant. This may well be doubted;
11
 THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE§. 277.
one might even admit that whenever our soul attempts to think a perfectly
simple idea, e.g., the idea of something in general, other things besides
this simple idea also occur to it at the same time, e.g., the idea of the
word we usually use to designate the simple idea. This does not prevent
us from claiming, however, that there are also simple ideas in our souls,
and in particular that whenever we attentively pronounce a word which
designates a simple concept, the designated concept occurs in our con-
sciousness (provided we do not take the word to have a different sense).
For, as already remarked, if there were no simple ideas in us, how could
there be complex ones?
On this occasion, it may not be out of place to remark that although
the existence of simple ideas may be inferred from the existence of com-
plex ideas, the existence of the latter cannot be inferred from the exis-
tence of several simple ideas, not even from their simultaneous existence.
In order to be permitted to say that someone has a certain complex idea,
it does not suffice that he has all the simple ideas of which it is com-
posed, for he must also possess them in the appropriate combination. For
just as the order and connection of the simple parts matters in objective
ideas-so much so that different objective ideas may be composed from
the same simple components-so too is this obviously the case with sub-
jective ideas. Thus here too, in order to account for the production of a
21 complex idea from given simple ones, we must suppose a special connec-
tion between them.* If one asks what the nature of this connection is, I
would say that it is a kind of mutual action between the ideas. If several
ideas are to be combined into one, they must engage in a particular kind
of interaction.
But when this occurs, the ideas are altered, and so the question arises
whether one can say that once the ideas a,b,c,d, ... have been com-
bined into a complex idea M, one still has the simple ideas a, b, c, d, ... ?
Certainly not as isolated ideas. We will be able to say that we possess a
certain simple idea a in isolated form when we think it as a self-subsistent
idea, e.g., when we form a judgement about it. The mere fact that in form-
ing these thoughts or judgements other ideas are in our soul at the same
time will not prevent us from claiming that we possess the idea a in iso-
lated form-for these other ideas are not in this case combined with it to
form a new idea.
*Just possessing the ideas "air", "ship", etc., simultaneously, for example, does not
mean we have the idea of an airship.
12
Of Ideas
§.278.*
We have intuitions os well as concepts
Another highly important distinction among subjective ideas is that be-
tween intuitions and concepts. According to §§72 and 73 we understand
by sul~jective intuitions those subjective ideas which, although simple,
have only a single object, and by subjective concepts ideas which are nei-
ther intuitions, nor contain intuitions among their parts.
It is clear that we have intuitions, since we quite often have ideas that
we look upon as the effects of a single actual entity, which is the object
represented by it. At bottom, this object is nothing other than a certain 22
change which occurs just then in our soul. We usually indicate [andeuten]
these objects with the word "this", connected with additions designating
some of its attributes, e.g., this reel, this pleasant fragrance, etc. Such
complex expressions certainly betray the complexity of the idea which
then occurs in our mind. Yet closer consideration of the form of these
complex ideas shows that a certain unanalysable idea which we express
by means of the "this" is the main part, and that this part, by itself, in
fact represents the single object to which we apply it. For the fact that
this object has the attributes indicated in the additions, e.g., that it is a
pleasant fragrance, already follows from the fact that it is precisely this
object and not another which we represent. Thus the idea we designate
by means of "this" is a simple idea which, for all its simplicity, has only
a single object, and is thus precisely what we call an intuition.
It is easier to show that we also possess concepts. For if the op-
posite were the case, all of our ideas would have to be pure intuitions,
a claim which refutes itself, since intuitions without concepts (e.g., the
concept "and") cannot be combined into even a single composite idea.
Our soul's ability to form intuitions under certain circumstances is called
its intuitive or perceptual faculty, or sensibility; while the capacity to pro-
cure concepts is called understanding or the power of thought, where by
"thought" one understands the forming of ideas.
It is worth noting that among the many things of which our soul is
able to form ideas are several of its own ideas. The soul, I say, is able to 23
represent some of its own ideas, and indeed by means of ideas which are
simple and represent them uniquely, i.e., they can be intuited. This capac-
ity might be called the faculty of reflexion, provided that by reflexion one
simply means intuiting, rather than other sorts of considerations bearing
on what occurs within us.
13
 THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE§. 279.
§.279.
Sensible and supersensible ideas
Each idea that appears in our mind may be looked upon as the result
brought about by the activity of our soul in connection with all the sub-
stances outside of it, including God. Now in most cases a significant
change in a small part of the world, or in the relation of this part to us
(e.g., coming appropriately close to the organs of our body), suffices to
cause a change in our ideas, and in particular the production of many
specific intuitions. Such a part (which is always a collection of infinitely
many finite substances) is generally called the cause of the production of
these intuitions even though, strictly speaking, it is only a partial cause,
since along with it our soul and a great many other outer factors need to
be present for these intuitions actually to be produced. Thus I call the
watch in front of me the cause of the gentle ticking I hear, even though
the table, the air, and my auditory organs contribute to this phenomenon.
Parts of the world whose nature is such that they may be causes of certain
intuitions in the way just described or, more briefly, things that may be
24 perceived, are called sensible. Things which cannot be the objects of a
perception, by contrast, are called supersensible. Ideas of sensible objects
are themselves called sensible, ideas of supersensible objects, supersen-
sible. Thus the ideas: the fixed star Sirius, gold, lion, flower are sensible,
while God, holiness, immortality, etc., are supersensible.
In a broader sense we call an idea sensible if it is equivalent (in the
sense of§ 108) to an idea of the following form: "A sensible object, which
has the attributes a, b, c .... ,"regardless of whether it in fact has an object,
and indeed whether it can have an object; for example: "a winged horse".
The concept of a supersensible idea is broadened in similar fashion. An
example is "a being which is so imperfect that it could not be more so."
Note. In the Critique of Pure Reason (A312/B368 ff.), KANT quite
rightly speaks of the concept of an Idea 1 as highly important. Accord-
ing to his definition, the essence of an Idea is that it is a concept that
goes beyond the possibility of experience. If this only means that none of
the objects standing under these concepts may be detected in experience,
it seems to me that in addition to all the supersensible ideas, we would
also have to give the name of Idea to all concepts which have no objects,
1Here
we use "Idea", capitalised, to translate Kant's "!dee", while "idea" is used for
"Vorste/lung", which is usually translated as "presentation" or "representation" in Kant's
works (tr.).
14
Of Ideas
among them all imaginary concepts. This, however, does not seem to
have been KANT' s view of the matter, nor is it an appropriate definition.
The concept which in recent times we have learned to connect with the
word "Idea" (mostly due to KANT's efforts), which PLATO also seems to
have connected with this word, and which in any case merits a special des-
ignation is, in my opinion, the following: ideas which we form, regardless
of whether or not an actual object corresponds to them, merely with the
intention of guiding our action, and producing an object which comes as
close to it as possible, are called Ideas if abstract and ideals if concrete.
Thus we call the concept of perfect beauty an Idea, and we say of Christ 25
that he realised the ideal of human perfection; we demand of the learned
that they aspire to and act according to ideals, etc. KANT (ibid.) claimed
that all transcendental Ideas (of speculative reason) belong to one of three
classes, in that they either have to do with the soul (the subject which is no
longer a predicate) or God (an unconditioned condition), or the world (an
aareuate
abb b
of the terms of a classification from which nothing is lacking).
It is obvious that these concepts are not Ideas in the sense just defined.
Even when I disregard this meaning, however, I cannot glimpse a well or-
dered whole in this constellation of three concepts: soul, God and world.
For souls are parts of the world. It has also been shown, I believe ( § 190),
that the threefold classification of our judgements under the heading of
relation (categorical, hypothetical, or disjunctive) is untenable; and these
three Ideas were admittedly derived from it.
§.280.*
Clear and obscure ideas
One distinction between ideas which is so striking that we often have
occasion to speak of it in ordinary life is that between clear and unclear,
or obscure, ideas. Yet it can hardly be said that in ordinary life we always
connect the same concepts with these words. Hence we are not only
permitted, but indeed obliged, to determine their meaning here in a way
which best meets the requirements of science.
1) Often the the words "clear" and "obscure" are taken in such a way
that the attributes they designate allow of a more or less or, what amounts
to the same, have a quantity. We do this, for example, when we say that
we can think of one thing more clearly than another, and of a third still
less clearly than the second, etc. But there is something vacillating about 26
this usage: whether we should call an idea clear will depend upon the
15
 THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE§ . 280.
idea with which we compare it. This meaning will thus be of no use for
the aims of science.
2) We say of many ideas that we are conscious of them; could it be
that the proper difference between clear and obscure ideas is connected
with this? Is it reasonable to say that an idea is clear when we are con-
scious of it, and obscure when this is not the case? To decide this matter
we must first determine more precisely what we are to understand by this
consciousness, which is said to accompany every clear idea. If we judge
of an idea that we have it, then there is no question that we have it, nor
that we can be said to be conscious of it: if somebody says that he has a
certain idea how can we deny that he is conscious of it? But we cannot
turn this into a definition of the concept of a clear idea; we cannot require
that for an idea to be clear, we must have formed the judgement that we
have it; this definition would be much too narrow, and whether an idea
should be called clear or obscure would depend upon a quite accidental
characteristic, which has nothing to do with its inner attributes. For if we
imagine that we had a pair of ideas (perhaps at different times) so alike
in their inner attributes that the only reason we form the judgement that
we have one of them but do not judge this of the other lies in different
external circumstances, would it really be appropriate to call the former
clear and the latter obscure, given that these words certainly refer to an
27 inner difference? This difficulty could be avoided if we call an idea clear
if it has those characteristics which an idea must have to enable one to
judge that one has it, regardless of whether this actually occurs or else
external circumstances prevent it. Indeed, this seems to be what we want
to say by the expressions "to be conscious of an idea", or "to know that
we have an idea". For, if we attribute to somebody knowledge of some-
thing, namely, knowledge of truth A, then we do not want to indicate that
he forms judgement A at the very moment we attribute this knowledge to
him; rather, it is sufficient that he should have formed this judgement at
some other time, and that he requires only a ce1tain external stimulation
in order to repeat it. Hence it is not the actual formation of judgement A,
but only a certain capacity to form it, which we call knowledge of truth
A. Similarly, when we say that someone knows he has the idea a we do
not require that he form the judgement "I have the idea a" at that very
moment; rather, it suffices that this idea be in him in such a way that it
does not depend upon the idea itself, but rather only on some other cir-
cumstance, whether or not the judgement is formed. All of this may be
true; nevertheless, we can scarcely look upon it as a proper definition of
16
Of ldeas
the concept of a clear idea that it is constituted as it must be to enable us
to form the judgement that we have it, regardless of whether or not we
form this judgement. For precisely because this judgement does not have
to be formed , it seems that this need not be mentioned as one of the con-
stituents of the concept of a clear idea. It must be possible to express the
nature of a clear idea by using a characteristic which is found , not merely
in some of them, but in all of them, and which not merely may be present,
but must be present.
3) In order to discover this characteristic let us see what is necessary
in order to form the judgement that we have a certain idea a. There is 28
no occurrence, in this judgement, of the idea a itself, but only of an idea
of this idea. Hence if somebody simply has an idea a, but not an idea
of this idea, then he could not form the judgement that he has idea a.
However, it can happen, conversely, that somebody not only has a certain
idea a, but also an idea of it, without using the latter in order to form
the judgement that he has a. But if it has come to the point that we not
only have an idea a, but also an idea of it, then the only thing required
for the formation of the judgement that we have a are certain changes
in external circumstances- no changes in a will be necessary. Could we
then not define a clear idea as an idea that we represent to ourselves? It is
understood that the form of words "to represent something" is to be taken
in the narrower sense of§ 101; hence we require for a clear idea that it be
represented by an idea which applies exclusively to it. But this can still
occur in two ways: the idea which is to become clear can be represented
either by an intuition, or by some complex idea which happens to refer to
it because of its particular composition. Now it seems to me that for an
idea to be clear this must occur by means of an intuition. For if I form a
complex idea which has the property of fitting a single one of my ideas
not because any one of its parts does so, but only through the combination
of all of them, if, for example, I form the thought "of an idea which I had
a hundred days ago at exactly the moment when the bell struck one a.m.",
no one will say that the idea I had then is raised to clarity by means of
this new idea of it which I now form-when in fact I do not even need 29
to know the idea in order to form this idea of it. All this leads to the
following definition: An idea is clear if we represent it to ourselves by
way of an intuition. It will be called obscure whenever this is not the case.
4) Someone might well object to this definition by pointing out that
it has the same flaw as the one discussed in no. 2. For as we ourselves
admitted, for an idea to be clear one need not actually form the judgement
17
 THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE§. 280.
that one has it; it suffices that one be in a position to form the judgement.
So too no actual intuition of the idea is required-the mere possibility
of intuiting it is enough for us to accord it clarity. I nevertheless believe
that we are entitled to demand more of a clear idea than the mere pos-
sibility of intuiting it, namely, an actual intuiting. We do indeed usually
apply the words obscure and non-obscure (or clear) to bodies not in or-
der to indicate whether or not we see them, but rather whether they have
an attribute by virtue of which they can or cannot be seen. Things stand
otherwise with the words clear and unclear (or opaque), which, when ap-
plied to bodies, designate an attribute by virtue of which we can or cannot
see through them. From this it follows that there is no possible way to ad-
here to the customary meanings of the terms clear and obscure if we are
to apply them to ideas, and indeed as contradictory opposites. If, finally,
we consider the intimate connection between an idea present in our mind
and the intuiting of this idea; and reflect that, according to the law of
action and reaction, when an idea is intuited something must change in
it, as indeed experience daily teaches us (e.g., that a pain becomes more
30 acute if we intuit it), the last remaining objection will disappear-Le., we
may assume that the circumstance whether or not an idea is intuited by
us and thus, whether we ascribe clarity or obscurity to it, counts as one of
its inner attributes.
5) Finally, these definitions seem fully in accord with the aims of
logic. First, there is no doubt that both of these concepts are objectual,
i.e., that there are ideas which are clear as well as ideas that are obscure in
this sense. No proof is required for the first assertion (§278). The second
becomes obvious as soon as one recalls that the intuition of an idea is
itself an idea, from which it follows that a being all of whose ideas are
clear would have to have an infinite number of them. The distinction is
not only well-founded, but also an important one. For the circumstance
whether an idea is clear or obscure, i.e., whether we have produced an
intuition of it or not, is certainly of importance, for as long as this has not
occurred we will seldom if ever be in a position to say something about
the idea which applies to it alone.
Note 1. Philosophers differ greatly among themselves on the defini-
tions of the concepts clear and obscure. DESCARTES, who was to my
knowledge the first to introduce this distinction in science, gave the fol-
lowing definition (Prine. Phil., Part I, §45): Ideam clarum voco, quae
men ti attendenti praesens et aperta est. l As many flaws as the definition
1I call an idea clear that is present and open to a mind attending to it.
18
Of Ideas
has, it seem to me at least to correctly point to the essential difference
between clear and obscure ideas. DESCARTES seems to have wanted to
call ideas clear only if the soul directs its attention to them, and there is
no doubt that this involves intuiting them. In the definition of the Ars cog-
itandi, too (Part I, ch. 9) (ldeam clarum dicere posswnus, cum vividwn,
ut ita dicam, sui sensum nobis imprimit. 1), the expression "vividus ideae 31
sensus" might be taken to mean a kind of intuition of an idea. LOCKE
(Ess., II, xxix, §4) gave this definition: " ... a clear idea is that whereof
the Mind has such a full and evident perception, as it does receive from
an outward Object operating duly on a well-disposed Organ .... " Who
can fail to sense the vagueness of these expressions? According to this
definition, there would be no clear ideas except for those which apply to
external objects, and indeed only if these objects had produced the ideas
through their action. Yet we nevertheless have clear ideas of objects that
are imperceptible, e.g., of virtue, vice, etc. The most widely acclaimed
definition was that which LEIBNIZ presented in the Act. erud. Lips. of
1684 (p. 537): Clara cognitio est, cum habeo, uncle rem repraesentantam
cognoscere passim. 2 Similarly, in the New Essays (II, xxix, §2) we read:
Une idee est claire, lorsqu 'elle siif.fit, pour reconnaftre la chose; et pour
la distinguer; sans cela l 'idee est obscure. 3 Essentially the same defini-
tion was adopted by WOLFF (Log., §80), HOLLMANN (Log., §50, 51),
WYTTENBACH (L., §20), LAMBERT (N. 0., §80), REUSCH (L., § 112),
SCHULZE (L., § 141), METZ (L., §86), ESSER (L., §30), BACHMANN (L.,
§67) among others. I do not reject their concept, but only its designation.
First, one must recognise the ambiguity of the expression "object of an
idea''. This might be taken to mean what I call the objective idea, or the
matter of a subjective idea, but also what I call the object of an idea, as
well as that to which a predicative idea is applied in a judgement, and fi-
nally the actual, external object whose action has caused us to produce a
certain idea. The examples furnished by LEIBNIZ suffice to show that by
the expressions "res repraesentata" and "la chose", he thought of some-
thing completely different from the matter of the subjective ideas. But if
"the object of an idea" is to be understood in my sense, I must observe
that not every clear idea has such an object, since there are objectless
1
We are able to speak of a clear idea when it impresses on us, as I say, a vivid sense
of itself.
2
A cognition is clear if I have it in such a way that I can re-identify the thing
represented.
3
An idea is clear if it enables one to recognise the thing and to distinguish it from
others; otherwise, it is obscure.
19
 THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE§. 280.
32 ideas that can be clearly grasped. I can, for example, form a clear idea
of "a man with a golden tongue" even if there is no such thing. But even
in cases where I have an objectual idea, e.g., of a celestial body which
has the form of a ring (the rings of Saturn), what does it mean to say that
if this idea is clear I can distinguish its object from the objects of other
ideas? To say that somebody can distinguish the object of a certain idea
from the objects of other ideas means that he is in a position to name
certain attributes which hold of the one or several objects of the first idea
but not of the objects of the other ideas. But what happens if that idea is
the widest of all ideas, the idea of something in general? Since this idea
covers every object, there can be no characteristic by which we can dis-
tinguish its objects from those objects that do not stand under it. Hence,
according to that definition, it would be impossible to form a clear idea of
something in general. Let us then try the third sense and let us understand
by the object of an idea A not that thing which is actually represented by
that idea, but that to which we apply it in a judgement of the form "this
is A". I admit that if we take "object" in this sense, the concept which
emerges is of great importance for logic: it is the concept of an idea which
suffices to distinguish the object to which we apply it from many or all
other objects. But I would maintain the word "clear" would be far less
suitable for designating it than others such as "complete" or "exclusive",
etc. (§§110, 112). By the clarity of an idea we usually mean a certain
relation between that idea and our consciousness; but whether a given
idea A suffices to distinguish the object to which we apply it depends not
upon the way in which this idea is represented in our consciousness, but
on its relation to that object. One and the same idea would have to be
called clear if we apply it to one object, and obscure if we apply it to an-
other; i.e., clearness and obscurity of an idea would depend upon which
object we wish to apply it to with the intention of distinguishing it from
all similar objects. Finally, if we take the expression "object of an idea"
33 in its fourth sense, then an obscure idea is one through which the object
which has caused it can barely be distinguished from other objects, i.e.,
an idea from which it is almost impossible to infer the properties of the
object which caused it. I believe that the case which is here described
could easily occur with ideas of which the mind is very clearly aware and
thus should not be called obscure. Thus, for example, the visual idea of
a distant object does perhaps not allow us to distinguish this object from
others; nonetheless, I can pay close attention to this idea and can be inti-
mately conscious that I have it, and what it is like; for example, I may be
20
Of Ideas
aware that I have something very shiny before me, etc. I do not deny that
ideas of this kind are frequently called obscure in ordinary life, indeed,
I myself make use of this expression when no misunderstanding is to be
feared. Yet if one intends to speak precisely, it seems to me that one must
express things otherwise, and only say of these ideas that they are defi-
cient, and not sufficient to determine the object they stem from. It is also
obvious, incidentally, that this way of distinguishing between the clarity
and obscurity of ideas would depend not on the inner attributes of the
ideas, but rather on their relations. Several logicians speak not of distin-
guishing objects, but rather the ideas themselves. Thus BORN (Versu. iih.
d. Grundl. d. m. D., p. 11) writes: "An idea is called clear ifthe conscious-
ness of it is sufficient to distinguish it from any other idea." GERLACH
(§62), HILLEBRAND (§288), and others say the same. It may well be true
that an idea that we not only can but actually do distinguish from others
must be clear. For if we distinguish one idea from another, we ascribe
an attribute to it that we deny of the other, and thus we make a judge-
ment concerning it. In order to do this appropriately, we must first have
formed an idea that represents it and it alone, i.e., we must have intuited
it. Thus this definition boils down to the same thing as mine. Surpris-
ingly, some logicians have referred clarity merely to the content of ideas,
while others have referred it merely to their extension. Thus JAKOB (L.,
§ 134) writes: "A concept is clear if the consciousness connected with it 34
is so strong that one may distinguish its content from the content of any
other concept." The same is found in SCHAUMANN's Logik (§299). By
contrast, RITTER (L., p. 80) has: "If I can distinguish that which belongs
to the extension of a concept from that which belongs to the extension
of another concept, one says I have a perfectly clear concept." Against
this, I remark that when one is conscious of the content of an idea, i.e.,
of the parts of which it is composed, it is customary (and in my opinion,
rightly so) not only to say that it is clear, but also that it is distinct. With
respect to extension, I note that there are also clear concepts which have
no extension. It is clear from the foregoing what is to be made of defi-
nitions like that of PLATNER (Aph., §399), which unite the two aspects
of content and extension. KANT's definition (L., Intro.) seems to me one
of the best: "If I am conscious of an idea, it is clear, otherwise it is ob-
scure." FRIES (S. d. L., p. 49 and K1: d. V) on several occasions even says
that an idea becomes clear in us when we perceive it (through our inner
sense). This coincides exactly with the above definition. Incidentally,
several very faithful followers of KANT, for instance KIESEWETTER (W
21
 THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE§. 280.
A. d. L., p. 95 ff.), worried that there may be a kind of contradiction in the
concept of an "unconscious idea", accordingly conceded that we are in-
directly conscious of obscure ideas, in that we infer their existence from
their effects. But is it indeed the case that we become conscious of all
our obscure ideas in this way? I would also like to ask those who take
offence at the existence of unconscious ideas if they have ever considered
that one can only become conscious of an idea by forming another idea
of it? In KRUG' s presentation, too, I find his usual measure of clarity
and consistency lacking. For when he speaks of clarity (L., §32), he says
that it consists in a degree of consciousness which permits one to distin-
guish the object of the concept. Given this, one would expect obscurity
to consist in a degree of consciousness which does not permit one to dis-
35 tinguish the object. Instead of this, however, it is said that obscurity is
present in cases where consciousness is merely indirect. In note 1, the
way in which one clear concept is distinguished from another is deter-
mined more precisely by saying that this happens without entering into
the individual parts of the concepts. But if this stipulation is a necessary
feature of clarity, why wasn't it mentioned in the main part of the section?
In note 2, the way in which consciousness of obscure concepts is merely
indirect is at first explained by saying that one is conscious of them only
insofar as they are combined with others. Later, however, it is said that an
obscure concept only enters into consciousness by being confused with
a related concept-are these two things really the same? Furthermore, it
is assumed in note 1 that anyone who is able to distinguish the object of
one concept from those of other concepts is also able to distinguish the
concepts and that, conversely, whoever is incapable of the former is also
incapable of the latter. This seems incorrect to me: for two concepts can
be distinct yet have the same object, as with the concepts of an equilat-
eral and an equiangular triangle. We can distinguish such concepts, even
though we cannot distinguish their objects. E. REINHOLD (ErkenntnijJ!.,
p. 278) distinguishes between logical and psychological clarity, defining
the latter roughly the way KANT does, while saying that the former only
obtains if we are able to think a concept as a particular individual idea by
means of a characteristic determination belonging to it. FRIES (S. d. L.,
p. 116) requires, more precisely, that we must be able to think clear ideas
separately by themselves. I too admit that when our soul thinks many
ideas in combination (thus not separately), the ideas for the most part re-
main obscure. Thus a certain degree of separation may be required in
order to grasp an idea clearly. Yet this in no way constitutes the essence
22
Of Ideas
of clarity. For otherwise, it seems to me, we could not claim to have a
clear idea of a single concept. Does any concept ever appear in our mind
completely isolated from everything that does not belong to it'? Are not a
b
areat many related ideas associated with every concept, e.g ... the ideas of
the sounds which make up the word which designates it, which certainly
do not belong to it? MEHMEL (Denklehre, p. 169) and NDBLEIN (L.,
§280) completely reject the customary classification of concepts as either 36
clear or obscure. HEGEL, too, says in his own way that the customary
classification should be discarded: "It must remain undetermined what
an obscure concept is; for otherwise it would no longer be obscure, but
clear." It is a mystery to me which principle could have given rise to this
inference. A definition always makes a concept distinct. But when one
asks for a definition of obscure concepts, one doesn't mean a definition
of the obscure concepts themselves, but rather of the general concept of
them. And the latter can certainly become distinct without the former
doing so.
Note 2. In KIESEWETTER' s Logik (§54) as well as in other recent
treatises one finds the odd statement that "obscure ideas do not really be-
long in logic." How should we understand this claim? Does it only mean
that in presentations of logic one should strive to avoid obscurity in the
concepts one sets out as much as possible, making everything clear and
distinct? If so, the remark is completely correct, but it holds not only of
logic but of any scientific presentation. But if it is supposed to mean that
logic should not even discuss obscure ideas and concepts, the claim would
be incorrect. For logic should not only teach the concept of an obscure
idea (as indeed these logicians themselves do) but also should discuss it
at several points-indicating the influence such ideas have on our judge-
ments, how obscure concepts can be raised to clarity and distinctness,
etc.
Note 3. Most logicians claim that clarity as well as obscurity have
degrees. Some, such as CROUSAZ, go so far as to claim that this entire
distinction is merely relative. Given their definitions of these concepts,
they may well be right. Whoever, for example, thinks that clarity of an
idea consists in the ability to distinguish the object that produced it from
others, can certainly suppose that there are different degrees of clarity,
according to whether our ideas allow us to distinguish the object that 37
produced them from more or fewer objects. This is not the case with my
definition of this concept. If only those ideas of which we have formed
intuitions are called clear, and the rest are said to be obscure, then there
23
 THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE§. 280.
are no degrees of clarity or obscurity, for it is not a matter of degree
whether one intuits or not. Thus one should not be misled here by words.
When in ordinary usage one speaks of more or less clarity, one takes the
word in a different sense, equivalent either to distinctness, completeness,
or vividness.
Note 4. When I claimed in this section that there are also unconscious
ideas, I professed a view which was much disputed in earlier times, and
which more recently has been (like many others) set aside rather than re-
solved. DESCARTES first ventured to claim that our soul also has ideas of
which it is not conscious, in that it constantly (even in the deepest sleep)
thinks. This was denied, notably by LOCKE; yet LEIBNIZ and WOLFF did
not hesitate to admit the existence of ideas (repraesentationes) of which
we are unconscious, using the term perceptiones to distinguish them from
conscious ideas or ideas properly so-called, which they called appercep-
tiones. So too BAUMGARTEN (Acr. L., §14), TETENS (Versuch, Part I, p.
265), PLATNER (Aph., I, §30), KANT (Logik, Intro., p. 33, 88 [Ak., 9.33,
39]) and others. Among their opponents CREUZ (Vers. iib. d. Seele) went
the farthest when, rather than admitting that there can be ideas without
consciousness, claimed instead that there can be consciousness without
ideas, namely, pure self consciousness. In my view, self consciousness is
just consciousness of oneself, which accordingly has an object, and pre-
supposes an idea (namely, of oneself). Most opposition to unconscious
ideas, incidentally, is based upon the following two points: (a) many
thought that there was an internal contradiction in the concept of an idea
one was not aware of-for, they said, if someone is not aware of repre-
38 senting something, he does not represent anything. See, e.g., CROUSAZ' s
Logique (Part I, sec. 3, ch. 1). Here (as I have already said) it seems that
they forgot that knowledge of an idea presupposes an idea of the idea
and a particular judgement concerning it. JAKOB (Seelenl., §§512, 516)
thought that the supposition of unconscious ideas was chimerical rather
than contradictory, since an idea could not really be called ours if it was
not accompanied by the "I think", or consciousness. I would say that an
idea would have to be accompanied by the "I think" at most in the case
where we are in a position to recognise it as our own. However, in or-
der for an idea to be our own (whether or not we are aware of it), this
consciousness is not required. SCHMID (See/en!., p. 297) defines ideas
(in the narrow sense of the word) as alterations of the self which are pos-
sible constituents of cognitions. From this definition he infers that "If
something is to serve as a constituent of a cognition, I must at least be
24
Of Ideas
conscious of it, i.e., I must be able to combine it with myself, the subject
of consciousness. Thus there are no unconscious ideas." I cannot endorse
this inference either. For even if it were correct to say that every idea
must be a possible constituent of a cognition, indeed, even if one were
forced to admit that every idea must occur as a constituent in one of the
judgements I actually form, either in the subject or in the predicate; it
would still not follow that I would have to form an idea of this idea, still
less an intuition, which is necessary if I am to be in a position to articu-
late the judgement that I have it, i.e., if one is to say I am conscious of
it. (b) The second reason usually urged against the existence of uncon-
scious ideas runs roughly as follows: "We can never claim that we have
unconscious ideas, precisely because we are not supposed to be aware
that we have them." This inference seems to me to rest upon a confusion
of two concepts which are not sufficiently distinguished by the words we
have for them. When we say of an unconscious idea that we would not
know that we had it, we only mean to say that we have no intuition of
such an idea, and thus cannot articulate the judgement: "I have this idea". 39
For in this judgement there occurs an intuition which applies to the idea
(namely, in the words "this idea"). By contrast, when we claim in gen-
eral that we have unconscious ideas, we form a judgement in which there
occurs an idea under which all our unconscious ideas stand (provided we
have any); however, this idea is no intuition of them, but rather a general
concept which englobes them all.
§.281.*
Distinct and confused ideas
1) If one may truly say that we have grasped in our mind a certain objec-
tive idea which is not simple, but rather composed of several parts, then
all of the simple parts which, combined, make up the idea must also be
grasped by us. For the objective idea is composed of precisely the same
number of parts, and the same sort of parts, as are found in the subjective
idea which we call the appearance of the former in our soul. If our subjec-
tive idea were simple, we would for that very reason call it the appearance
of a simple objective idea. If it consists of several parts a, b, c, , ... then
we must look upon it as the appearance of an objective idea which is
also composed of several parts, and indeed of precisely the simple parts
which correspond to the subjective ideas a, b, c, ... as their matter. It
in no way follows from this, however, that when a complex [objective]
25
 THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE§. 281.
idea becomes clear for us (i.e., when we form an intuition of the subjec-
tive complex idea which is the appearance of the former in our mind),
we must also have formed similar intuitions of all of its individual parts.
In other words, it is false to say that a complex idea can only become
clear for us if we clearly represent its individual parts. When I form an
40 intuition of some other actual object, e.g., this odour, it is not necessary
to form intuitions of its individual parts. Indeed, this may not even be
possible, since the number of parts may tend to infinity. Similarly, I can
form intuitions of many of my own ideas (which may also be complex ob-
jects) without at the same time forming intuitions of the individual parts
of which they consist. Even though it is not necessary to form clear ideas
of all the individual parts of a given complex idea in order to raise it to
clarity, it is quite possible that both things may happen-that is, we may
have intuitions of the complex idea as well as of all of its parts. If this
occurs, and we clearly represent a complex idea A not only as a whole,
but also clearly represent its individual parts a, b, c, ... one can still ask
if it is known whether and in what manner a, b, c, ... are combined or
whether this is unknown. Clearly, the latter is quite possible. We might,
for example, clearly represent the concept "triangle" as well as the several
concepts "figure", "side", etc. which, if appropriately combined, produce
the former, without thinking of this, or indeed knowing that the former is
composed of the latter. Sometimes we do know this, however, and are in
a position to form a true judgement of the following form: "The idea A
consists of the ideas a, b, c, ... , in such and such a combination." This is
a bit of knowledge which can be of great service, especially in scientific
investigation. When we are in a position to make such a judgement about
an idea, we generally call it distinct; complex ideas whose components
41 we do not know are called indistinct or confused. The distinctness of an
idea is accordingly a relation between it and our cognitive faculties, and
when we ascribe distinctness to an idea we mean to say only that we know
its content, or, in other words, we know what its parts are and how they
are combined.
2) Only complex ideas can be distinct according to this definition. For
if an idea is simple, we cannot know how it is composed of others, since
it isn't. Now as important as it is to know the parts of a complex idea, it is
equally important to know of a simple idea that it has none at all. Thus it
seems appropriate to have a single term for the ideas which occur in our
minds in such a way that we are able to say either that they are simple or,
if not, how and of which parts they are composed. I accordingly permit
26
Of Ideas
myself to extend the concept of distinctness to cover both. In this broader
sense, an idea is called distinct if we know either the parts of which it is
composed, or else that it has none. If we do not know this, I call the idea
indistinct. If it is also complex, I call it corifused.
3) Every distinct idea must also be clear, and should it be complex, we
must have clear ideas of at least its immediate parts. For if it belongs in
the class of simple ideas, we must have formed the judgement "The idea
has no parts"; while if it is complex, we must have formed the judgement
"It consists of such and such parts." To do this, we must have formed an
intuition of the idea itself and, if it is complex, also have formed intuitions 42
of its parts, since these intuitions occur in the judgements just mentioned.
4) But for an idea to be distinct, it is not necessary that we form
ideas of its parts which are distinct as well as clear. For, according to
the definition given above, a complex idea may be called distinct if we
only know the immediate parts of which it is composed. Whether these
be simple or complex, and of what parts they may be composed, we do
not need to know. But if we also know this and hence have distinct ideas
of the parts as well, so much the better. This gives us an opportunity to
distinguish different degrees of distinctness. If an idea is distinct for us
but its immediate parts are not distinct, then it is said to have distinctness
of degree one; if an idea and its immediate components are also distinct,
but the latter are not, it has distinctness of degree two, and so on. Finally,
if we have distinct ideas of every part of a given idea, that is, if we know
the analysis of the idea (in case it is complex) right down to the simple
parts, which we recognise as simple, we say that the idea is pe1fectly
distinct.
5) Every simple idea which is distinct, i.e., if we merely know it is
simple, is also perfectly distinct. With any complex idea, by contrast,
there can be several degrees of distinctness. For even if the immediate
parts of an idea are its ultimate parts, it is conceivable that someone might
know that the idea in question is composed of these parts without knowing
that they are its ultimate parts, i.e., that they are simple. In this case his 43
idea would only stand at the first degree of distinctness, and would only
become perfectly distinct if he learned that all the parts of the idea were
simple. Any idea which is composed of finitely many parts will allow
of only finitely many degrees of distinctness. For if one analyses it into
its immediate parts and, if possible, analyses these into their immediate
parts, and so on, one must arrive after a finite number of iterations at
nothing but simple parts. Every time he repeats this procedure, he attains
27
 THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE§. 281.
a new level of distinctness in his ideas, and when he finally discovers that
the components he has before him are utterly simple, his idea becomes
perfectly distinct.
Note J. The way the concept of distinctness is understood here, espe-
cially the narrower sense of no. 2, seems to be the way it has always been
understood, although the definitions that have been given do not entirely
agree. The definition in BECK'S Logik (§13) is completely equivalent
to mine: "If we can analyse a concept, and indicate its parts, we show
that this concept is distinct for us." The definitions of SCHAUMANN (L.,
§303) and SCHMID (Emp. Psych., p. 299) are similar. In LEIBNIZ'S defi-
nitions (Medit. de cogn. and Nouv. Ess., II, xxix), however, it seems to me
that the components of which the idea is composed are confused with the
attributes of the object represented by it. It is not the latter, but only the
former, which belong to the definition of an idea, and it is only the latter
that one needs to know in order to have a distinct idea. Several logicians
define the concept of distinctness in terms of the concept of clarity. Thus
in BAUMGARTEN's Acr. L., §102, we read: Conceptus clarus clararum
notarum distinctus est. 1 So too MAAB (G1:, §34), METZ (§86) and oth-
ers. In my view, from the fact that one has clear ideas of the part-ideas
which constitute a certain other idea it does not follow that one knows
that it is composed of them, something which is required for distinctness.
REIMARUS (Vernunftl., §69), PLATNER (Aph., §402), KRUG (L., §33,
44 34), GERLACH (L., §62) and others distinguish two kinds of distinctness:
intensive, which concerns the content of an idea, and extensive, which
concerns its extension. While by the former they mean roughly the same
thing that I call distinctness in general, they understand by the latter the
kind of perfection of our knowledge of a concept which is attained by
determining its extension. But if one wishes to take the word "distinct-
ness" in such a broad sense, then it seems to me that one will have to
count every bit of knowledge concerning a concept-not only knowledge
of its inner attributes, but also knowledge of its relations-as bearing on
its distinctness. And since content and extension are far from exhausting
everything that may be known of a concept, we would also have to distin-
guish further kinds of distinctness-we would have to say, for example,
that a concept becomes more distinct (better known) for us when we come
to know all the higher concepts it is subordinate to, or the concepts it is
coordinate with, or that it is pure or mixed, redundant, etc.
1A clear concept of clear notes (characteristics) is distinct.
28
Of Ideas
Note 2. Almost all logicians define the concept of distinctness so that
it only applies to cornplex ideas. They must accordingly count simple
ideas among the indistinct or confused ideas. This doesn't even seem
to accord with ordinary usage. For does it not sound strange to say, as
one would have to, that even God himself has indistinct ideas? With the
extension of this concept I gave in no. 2, this would be avoided, since
according to it simple ideas could also be called distinct. KRUG (L., §34,
Note 2) indeed believes that according to his definition simple ideas may
also be distinct, if not intensively, at least extensively: for though they
have no content which can be analysed, they nevertheless have an ex-
tension which can be classified. But even supposing that a concept can
be made distinct by classifying its extension, there are simple concepts
which either have no extension or else have an extension in which we
cannot detect any multiplicity (§78).
Note 3. According to the definitions of §§275, 280 and 281, vivid-
ness, clarity and distinctness are quite different, even though one may say 45
that the first is required for the latter two. What KRUG calls cesthetic dis-
tinctness or rather vividness is the combination of an idea with a vivid
image (on this, see §284.7 below). The distinction between analytic and
synthetic distinctness which some have urged, finally, seems to me to be
of no use.
§.282.
Whether each of our ideas has a beginning and an end
1) Since in my view it is not necessary either to be conscious of an idea or
to form the judgement that one has it in order to have it, I clearly have no
right to conclude from the fact that we have just now become conscious
of a certain idea that the idea was just formed in our mind, nor to infer
from the fact that we are no longer conscious of an idea that it has ceased
to be. Whoever is of the opinion that substances neither come to be nor
cease to be might be led from what was just said to wonder whether every
one of our ideas has a beginning and an encl. In God's understanding,
every idea that there is is present at all times, and never changes. The
question thus presents itself whether the ideas which are found in human
minds-which are subject to many changes-are present at all times.
2) If we wished to claim that not a single human idea ever comes or
ceases to be, we would have to explain every change which occurs in the
state of our ideas in terms of their vividness, saying that now one, now
29
 THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE§. 282.
another, become stronger in us. We would not be able to say that anything
else apart from the degree of vividness ever changed in our ideas. In
46 particular, we would not be able to say that an idea undergoes a change
with respect to clarity, becoming clear when formerly it was obscure, or
vice versa. For if I have correctly grasped the nature of clarity (§280) as
consisting in forming an intuition of an idea present in us, it is decided
that none of our ideas could pass from obscurity to clarity unless a new
idea were formed in us, namely, an intuition of the idea. Similarly, no
clear idea could become obscure unless an intuition of it, and thus one of
our ideas, ceased to be.
3) Still more, among the many ideas of which we are conscious there
are also intuitions, which we apply to certain objects, their causes, which
are distinct from us. If someone wished to claim that all of our ideas are
without beginning or end, he would have to claim that that every object
which through its action brings forth an intuition in us always has and
always will act upon us, and indeed in the manner which is required to
produce an intuition. Now it might well be true that all finite substances
produce effects upon one another which are governed only by the dis-
tance between them, and which accordingly have different degrees at all
times. But one may surely dispute whether every one of these effects also
produces a singular idea in our minds, as well as whether there is no other
way in which ideas may be produced in us.
4) The former may be questioned because when we inquire more pre-
cisely into the outer object to which we apply an intuition as its cause, we
find that it is never a simple substance, but always a body, i.e., a collec-
tion of simple substances which are actually infinite in number. The effect
47 produced by a single one of these simple substances is by itself not yet
an idea, but rather something essentially different from an idea, the pro-
duction of which, for its part, requires the combined action of infinitely
many such substances. It is also clear that the production of an idea never
occurs through the mere existence of these substances, but rather due to
the particular connection in which they presently stand. Thus I can only
have, e.g., the intuition of this red under certain conditions. There must
be a body which is reel in colour sufficiently close to my eyes, it must
be illuminated, and so on. But if things stand thus, if the cause of the
presence of a certain idea in us is not the mere presence of other sub-
stances, but rather a certain connection between them, it is already shown
that the ideas we presently have have not always existed in us. For the
connections between things are constantly changing, and are subject to a
30
Of Ideas
continual coming to be and ceasing to be. In addition, the ideas which are
produced in us through the actions of outer objects are not the only ones
we have. Rather, we also have ideas which apply to no outer objects. The
claim that these ideas have been in us forever is at least not supported by
the reasons adduced in no. 3.
5) If it be true that some of our ideas are formed through actions on
our soul of a particular kind, it is already demonstrated that the condition
of our soul which we call representing is not permanent, but rather an
alteration. For what occurs in our soul during the action of an outer object
on it is certainly nothing permanent, but rather an alteration. But if at least
some of our ideas are alterations, then it is clear that they cease once the
action of the outer object which causes the idea ends. If we learn that at
least some of our ideas are mere alterations, then it is extremely likely 48
that this holds for all of them. For are not all ideas similar with respect
to what may be inferred about their duration? Do we not find that ideas
which we are aware of for a moment or two quickly disappear from our
consciousness? If it does not follow from this that they have completely
disappeared, it would at least seem to show that they must have become
weaker, and will soon disappear completely. In addition, the interaction
which ideas may enter into, e.g., when they are united as constituents in
a judgement, seems to prove that they are all of the same nature, variable
rather than pennanent. And is it not precisely this variation in our ideas-
of which we seem to be so intimately conscious-that we use to judge
every other change and indeed use as our original means of measuring
time?
6) Finally, it seems to me that it already lies in the concept of what we
call an idea that in the case of a finite substance, i.e., one whose forces act
only in time, an idea can only be a change within it. For doubtless by an
idea of such a being we mean something which can be looked upon as the
effect of its powers; and from this it follows that it must be an alteration.
§.283.*
Whether evoy idea leaves a certain trace after it has disappeared
1) If there are ideas which cease to be, or disappear, indeed if this holds
for all of our ideas, the question arises whether the condition of our soul
is exactly the same after the disappearance of an idea as it would have
been had this idea never been produced in us. 49
2) In order to answer this question, one might pose the further ques-
tion whether any change in a simple being is entirely without effects, that
31
 THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE§. 283.
is, one which takes such a course that the state of the being in which it oc-
curred would be exactly the same at a certain time as it was beforehand,
or would have been if it had never occurred? If there were substances
more or less like the matter of the mechanical philosophy, with no power
of representation, and no capacity to undergo an inner change, the ques-
tion would have to be answered in the affirmative. But could this also
be the case with substances endowed with the power of representation,
or those which undergo inner changes? It seems to me that there cannot
be an inner change in a substance which is completely without effects, so
that the occurrence or non-occurrence of this change would not affect the
future condition of the being in any way. For as no change is produced
without a cause, so too an alteration can only persist as long as its cause
(the action of other beings) lasts. Precisely on account of this, the con-
dition which exists at the last moment of this external action must persist
continually from that moment on unless some new action occurs.
3) But even if someone were unwilling to grant this for every change,
I can produce particular reasons which show why it must hold at least
of the kind of alterations we call ideas. Is it not the incontrovertible ev-
idence of experience that if we have had an idea once or several times,
it becomes easier to produce it again, and to raise it to higher degrees
of vividness? Does this not prove that an idea, even when it has ceased
to be, nevertheless leaves something behind in our soul which was not
there formerly? One might indeed attempt to explain this phenomenon
50 by claiming that something is left behind by an idea not in the soul but
rather in the body, an increased capacity to produce the motions required
for the production of this idea in our soul. But if this were correct, one
would have to say that all skill, development, and learning is based upon
the body, and only it learns, while the soul remains the same. Who could
believe this? In addition, we can observe of precisely those ideas in the
production of which the body plays the greatest role, namely, intuitions
of outer objects, that rather than becoming more vivid through frequent
repetition they become more feeble and, far from becoming easier to pro-
duce, require an ever stronger action of the external object. Only with
ideas which are produced through a special activity of the soul (even if
this be accompanied by a certain change in the body) is it fully the case
that they become more vivid and are easier to produce, the more often we
repeat them. This clearly shows that frequent repetition renders our body
less rather than more apt to carry out the motions necessary to produce a
given idea. Thus it is the soul rather than the body which learns, and ev-
32
Of Ideas
ery idea which is produced in it leaves behind a kind of trace, something
which was not there before.
4) Another proof of this is our ability under certain circumstances to
recall if not all, at least some of our own ideas (roughly speaking, those
which had a high degree of vividness during their existence). In order to
clarify this, I must say more precisely what a memory is. If we say of
someone that he recalls an idea he had once before, we must observe that
he now has this idea again, and also that he forms the judgement that he 51
had it once before. But this is not enough. For we can form the judge-
ment that we once had a certain idea without recalling it. It depends upon
the basis from which we infer this judgement. When I infer that I saw
a rock lying in my path yesterday merely from the fact that I didn't trip
over it, one cannot yet say that I recall my idea of this rock. If I infer
from the swelling I observe in my arm that I must once have broken my
hand and felt severe pain, this by no means amounts to the recollection
of that pain. Still less is this this case when I form the judgement merely
because older people who were around in my childhood tell me about
it. Thus in order to be able to say that we recall an idea, the judgement
that we once had it cannot merely be derived from a perception of certain
changes we produced in the external world which could not have occurred
without that idea, and still less from the consideration of things still more
distinct from ourselves. What remains to be said, then, other than that in
recollection we infer that we once had a certain idea A from the consid-
eration of something in our own mind? Indeed, the very word memmy
[Erinnerung] already indicates knowledge obtained from the considera-
tion of what passes within. Now what must this be in our souls, whose
consideration enables us in the process of recollection to conclude that we
formerly had the idea A? A consideration through which we come to form
an idea of the idea A must certainly be focussed on some enduring effect
of this idea. Experience teaches us that an idea we have had repeatedly 52
becomes not only more vivid but also easier to produce, even without the
presence of all the conditions which were required in the first instance to
bring it about. Consequently, we can define more precisely the nature of
that which remains in the soul as being of a sort which promotes the pro-
duction of that idea, and permits us to produce it more vividly and with
greater ease. Calling this certain something a trace left behind by a past
idea may not be the most appropriate choice of terms. Nevertheless, no
harm will come of retaining it, provided we adhere to the given definition
and do not think of traces in the physical [sinnlich] sense of the word.
33
 THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE§. 283.
Now if one admits, for the reasons cited above, that at least some of our
ideas leave traces, he will soon have to concede that all of them do. For
leaving a trace, one which makes it easier to reproduce the idea without
all the circumstances necessary at first, seems to be an effect that does not
depend on the matter of an idea, but rather on its strength and vividness,
i.e., on conditions allowing of more or less.
5) One might still wonder whether the trace left behind by an idea en-
dures forever, or else disappears or becomes weaker after a certain time.
The former claim is clearly not one which can be proven by experience,
though the reason cited in no. 2 is decisive by itself. Nevertheless, some
things that are certain based upon grounds of reason can also be refuted
by apparently contrary experiences. Thus the experience that ideas which
have not been activated for a long time can scarcely be recalled should by
53 no means be explained by saying that the trace it left behind has steadily
weakened. Rather, we should seek other explanations-perhaps the 1mm-
ber of ideas which make an equal claim on our recollection has grown
with time, or the traces that our ideas certainly also leave behind in our
bodies can and must disappear with time since the body is a composite
object.
Note. What I have claimed in this paragraph is exactly LEIBNIZ' s
opinion, as stated in the Otio Hanov., p. 288, namely, that no impression
made on the soul is ever lost. And in the Nouv. Ess., one reads qu 'il y a
des dispositions, qui sont des restes des impressions passees dans l'ame
aussi bien, que dans le corps, mais dont on ne s'apperf'Oit que lorsque la
memo ire en trouve quelqu 'occasion. 1 The expression disposition proves
sufficiently that LEIBNIZ did not take traces to be ideas. ABEL (See-
lenl., § 139 and Quellen d. Vorst., p. 214-219) also claimed that every
idea must leave a trace after it ceases to be, and sought to prove this
based in part upon the grounds that I adduced above, namely, "because
every inner change in a being leaves some trace." PLATNER taught the
same thing (Aph., Part I, §242), but instead of traces preferred to speak of
aptitudes to recall such ideas. BENEKE (Psych. Skizzen) coined the word
Angelegtheiten [::::::::dispositions]. Yet some, e.g., CRUSIUS (W. z. G., §90)
would have it that the ideas themselves endure in the soul, either for-
ever or at least as long as experience can produce a recollection of them.
FRIES (Syst. d. L., p. 55) also explains memory as the capacity of ideas
to endure; ideas are forgotten, in his view, when they become obscure.
1
. There are dispositions, which are the traces of past impressions in the body as well
as Ill the soul, that one is only aware of when the memory finds occasion to recall them.
34
Of Ideas
"No idea that we have had once is ever completely lost." When, however,
he adds in the same sentence, "at least not as a p~tency," he seem~ .to b_e
ntrue to himself. For if an idea endures only with respect to ability, 1t
~oes not itself endure; rather, this only means that the ability to produce it
more easily arises and endures. HERBART also describes memory as the 54
mere emergence of an idea previously suppressed by others in our con-
sciousness. This view is opposed to the reasons I adduced in the previous
paragraph against the opinion that our i~eas last forever. Yet there ~re
scholars who explain the phenomena which I have here used to argue for
the existence of certain traces of ideas in our souls in a completely differ-
ent way, namely, as traces left in the body by the external impression of
the represented object. This was the opinion of BONNET who, in the Ess.
analyt. sur !es facultes de l 'ame and elsewhere, explained all of this by
the ~onstitution of our brain fibres, which, when once moved, leave be-
hind a disposition or inclination (tendance) to undergo similar motions.
Some of the reasons why I cannot accept this view are known from nos.
2 and 3.
§.284.
Effects which result from the traces of our ideas
I) Because they are actual, the traces left behind in our souls after our
ideas disappear cannot fail to produce many effects. The most important
of these is the appearance, under favourable circumstances, of an idea
which has the same matter as that which left the trace. Such ideas are for
this reason called the same idea, but are more correctly called a renewal
or repetition, a revival or reawakening of the idea. The soul's capacity
to revive ideas under circumstances which differ from those necessary
to produce it in the first instance, is called memmy. In the special case
where the original idea was an intuition, and the object which caused it is
no longer present or does not cause the revived idea, the revived idea is
usually called an imagining [Einbildung] and the capacity to imagine is 55
called the imagination.
2) It is to be expected that we will not be able to raise every idea which
is revived to clarity, that is, (following the definition of §280), to procure
an intuition of it. If now an idea A is revived in our minds in such a way
that it remains obscure, then there is for this very reason no recollection
(§283) of A either. For this recollection is a judgement to the effect that
we have previously had the idea A, and for this we require an idea of this
35
 THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE§. 284.
idea, and indeed an idea which applies to A alone, i.e., an intuition of A.
Thus we must intuit the idea A which has been revived in us, and thus
raise it to clarity. Yet when the revival of an idea we once had is raised to
clarity. it does not always follow that we form the judgement that it is an
idea we had before, and that we have a memory of it. But if we do form
this judgement based on the consideration of grounds present in our soul,
it is called a memory; and the ability to form such judgements is [also]
called memory.
3) If we inquire into the circumstances under which ideas we have had
before are remembered, experience reveals the following rules:
(a) if we have an idea of an object which we have previously thought
of in connection with another, we usually also remember the latter. Usu-
ally, when we form an idea of one part of a whole we have formerly seen
we also form an idea of the remaining parts. The idea of one of the tusks
of an elephant, for example, will tend to bring us to form an idea of the
remaining parts, e.g., the trunk. (b) When we have an idea of an ob-
56 ject which we have formerly thought of as having a certain attribute, we
usually form an idea of this attribute as well. If, for example, we have
thought of Harpax (whether rightly or wrongly) as a cheapskate, we tend
to think of his stinginess when thinking of him. (c) When we have an idea
of an object we have looked upon as the ground or cause, or else as the
consequence or effect of another, the latter tends to occur to us as well.
Thus, hearing a shot, the firearm occurs to us, and vice versa. (cl) When
we have an idea of an object which bears many similarities to another we
have recognised, the idea of the latter is revived in us. Thus when we
see a wild rose, we recall the Cent(folia. (e) When we have an idea of an
object which we have previously thought of as being opposed to another,
the idea of the latter is revived. Thus, seeing a giant, we are reminded
of a midget. (f) When we have an idea of a place, we think of events
which we have experienced there, or at least of events we know have oc-
curred there. We walk, for example, into a room in which a dear friend
of ours has died after a long illness, and see him still in his death-bed.
(g) If we have had a sequence of several ideas, where the next one always
begins before the previous one has completely disappeared, we recall the
entire sequence, in the same order, if only the first idea is produced. Thus
if someone recites the first verse of a poem we know by heart, the rest
follows in order, etc.
4) As close consideration reveals that one or more of the circum-
stances enumerated above is present in almost every case of memories
36
Of Ideas
which arise in us, it is to be expected that one of them is also present
in the cases where we cannot notice any of them. Indeed, it is to be ex- 57
ected that they will be present when ideas are renewed without our even
~ein" aware of it. For this reason, the question of whether all of these
ciret~nstances can be reduced to a single one becomes all the more im-
portant. And I believe they ~an. One circums~ance common to all those
enumerated in no. 3, and with respect to which we can look upon the
articularities as accidental, is the presence of an idea that has the same
~zatter as another which was in the soul simultaneously with another.*
If we assume that such an idea is capable of reawakening the other, if
not always, at least when certain other circumstances contribute, then all
the experiences mentioned in no. 3 can be satisfactorily explained. For it
becomes clear that between any two ideas to which we ascribe the capac-
ity to revive one another, there is a relation such that they have the same
matter as two ideas once present in the soul simultaneously. (a) When we
think of an object in connection with another, the ideas of both must have
been in the soul simultaneously. (b) When we form the judgement that a
certain attribute belongs to an object, we must have thought of the object
and the attribute simultaneously. (c) The same holds when we form the
judgement that a certain object is the ground or cause, or the consequence
or effect, of another. (cl) If we are to say that a similarity between two ob-
jects is known, it must consist in an attribute which we ascribe to each
of them. The idea of this attribute is then one that has the same matter
as the two ideas which we (following (b) above) thought simultaneously
with one, and with the other, of these objects. (e) Objects which one calls 58
opposed, despite all the contrasts between them, have great similarity in
other respects (§ 107). Thus a giant and a midget, besides all the simi-
larities that come with their both being human, also have that of depart-
ing from the normal human size, one by excess, the other by deficiency.
(f) The idea of the place in which an event occurred that we ourselves
experienced, or that we know to have occurred, must for that very rea-
son have appeared in our soul at the same time as the idea of this event.
(g) Our assumption also permits us to explain the fact that an entire se-
quence of ideas A,B,C,D, .. . , where the next one always begins before
the previous one has completely disappeared, is recalled in the same order
if only the first idea is produced. For note that most ideas, especially ideas
''By simultaneous, I by no means intend to say that the ideas in question have the same
beginning- and end-points, but rather only that one of them began before the other ceased
to be,
37
 THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE§. 284.
like those just described, are composed of parts which must be thought in
a certain order. This explains why the idea A only recalls the idea B, and
not the later ideas C and D, for in fact A and B, but not A and C or A and
D, overlapped in time. The last parts of the idea A are simultaneous with
the first parts of the idea B, but before we reach C or D, A has disappeared
completely. This also explains why A awakens B but B does not awaken
A, and why we can renew the sequence from A to D, but not so easily
produce the reversed sequence form D to A. For if B is to remind us of
A, the last parts of B must be simultaneous with the first parts of A, rather
than the last parts of A being simultaneous with the first parts of B. Ac-
cordingly, we may set out the following principle: "If a pair of ideas has
59 ever been produced simultaneously in our soul, and afterwards an idea is
produced in us which is equal to one of them (has the same matter), then,
if not always, at least quite often, the other will also be renewed, i.e., an
idea will be produced which has the same matter as the other." Permit me
to call this proposition the law of awakening, renewal, or association of
our ideas, and to say of an idea responsible for the production of another
that it is the stimulating [weckende] idea while saying of the other that it
is stimulated or renewed.
5) So far, I have intentionally refrained from saying that when two
ideas have occurred simultaneously in the soul one may reawaken the
other eve1y time, saying instead that this occurs frequently. Experience
teaches no more than this. Indeed, it seems that the assumption that all
ideas which have occtmed even once simultaneously in our soul must
reawaken one another as soon as one of them is produced would lead to
many contradictions. To mention but one: what an immense number of
ideas, which could only confuse us, would have to be awakened in our
souls at every moment? But if it only happens with some of our ideas,
and only some of the time, that the occurrence of one of them stimulates
the other, we must desire to know what circumstances are either neces-
sary, or at least make it easier, for this to happen. On this matter, I can
only set out the following conjectures. An idea is more easily renewed:
(a) the more vivid it was when it occurred; (b) the more often it has al-
ready been renewed; (c) if the idea which reawakens it also has a certain
degree of vividness; (cl) the awakening idea will accomplish this all the
more certainly the more often it has already happened that a pair of ideas
with the same matter as the awakening and awakened idea have been si-
60 multaneously present in the soul, etc.
38
Of Ideas
6) On account of the law governing the awakening of simultaneous
ideas, every idea that has been produced in us repeatedly acquires more
secondary ideas every time it is repeated, namely, those which came into
our soul simultaneously with its earlier occurrences. Understandably, this
renders it ever more efficacious. If, in particular, we have repeatedly
heard a given word pronounced, or have perceived some other sensible
object a (which men use as a sign for the idea) simultaneously with the
production of the idea A in us, a connection is formed between the idea A
and the idea of the sign a, which will bring it about that whenever the idea
A is produced in us in the future, the symbol a will also occur to us, and
vice versa. But when I say that we have in this way an idea designated by
the word a, I do not mean that this idea occurs in our mind all by itself or
separately, but rather only that this idea belongs to the collection of things
we are presently thinking, and I look upon the other things we think along
with it, no matter how intimately they may be connected with that idea, as
if they were not there. In fact there are always many other ideas present
along with the idea designated by A, notably, the idea of its sign a, but
also many others which once were present in our mind at the same time,
either with A or the idea of its sign.
7) In the particular case when we are conscious or simply falsely be-
lieve that the ideaA is an object-idea, we quite rightly distinguish between
the idea itself and the one or more objects it represents. We then form yet
another idea of these objects (which admittedly is not necessary). This
idea is composed of the ideas of all the attributes we know to belong to 61
these objects, or else those we falsely ascribe to them, but especially of
those that are important to us, or are easily perceptible. Such ideas are of
the form "Something that unites the attributes b, b', b" .... " By virtue
of the law of simultaneity, this idea of the object of A becomes so closely
connected with the idea A itself that it appears whenever A is vividly
present for a while. I allow myself, as others have done before me, to
call this idea which accompanies A its accompanying image (schema or
phantasm). It is obvious from what has been said in §52.5 that the word
image is here used in an improper sense.
8) Not all of our ideas are accompanied by images in this sense. This
only occurs if we also represent the idea to ourselves (i.e., the idea is
clear) and either are aware or else falsely believe that it has one or more
objects. It occurs precisely because we believe that in this way we are
forming yet another idea of these objects, namely, an appropriate image
of them. In order to show the existence of such images accompanying
39
 THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE§. 284.
our concepts, I will first turn to the concept of God. We all define this
as the concept of a being which has no further ground of its existence.
But can we deny that whenever we represent this concept vividly for a
time, another idea appears, according to which we place this being (in-
deed, against our better judgement) in a certain space above us, ascribe a
shape to Him, and the like? So too we never think the concept of a tri-
angle without the idea of a determinate triangle occurring to us, perhaps
one which is roughly equilateral. And even when we think an imaginary
62 concept, which as such has no object, for instance that of a decahedron (a
solid bounded by ten equal faces), a certain solid appears before our eyes,
perhaps one bounded by triangles, etc.
Note I. The particular kind of idea which I called renewed (no. 4)-
i.e., those which arise due to the trace left by an older idea with the same
matter, even though the circumstances required to produce it in the first
place are not present-are usually called imaginings [Einbildungen] by
others. Thus in UEBERWASSER' s Emp. Psych., Vol. I, § 120, we read:
"The reawakened effects of former ideas which are elevated to new ideas"
(which are what I call traces) "are called imaginings." According to this
definition, every idea, even when it was not caused by an external ob-
ject, indeed even if it has no object, could become an imagining, pro-
vided only that it is formed by renewal. The most common definition,
by contrast, seems intended to narrow the concept of an imagining con-
siderably. According to it, an imagining is an idea of an object which
is absent. (See PLATNER'S Phil. Aph., Vol. I, §225; JAKOB'S Seelenl.,
§246; KIESEWETTER's WA. d. L., Vol. II, p. 163, among others). As this
definition seems to accord completely with common usage, I felt myself
obliged to retain it (no. 1), though the troubles caused by the fact that the
word imagining is derived from image cannot be denied.
Note 2. The laws governing the awakening of ideas (usually called the
laws of the association of ideas) are one of the most fruitful discoveries in
the field of psychology since the re-establishment of the sciences. There
is still disagreement, however, over whether these laws can all be reduced
to the single law of simultaneity. The majority is on the side of the affir-
mative. MALEBRANCHE already assumed only this single law (Rech. s.
la verit., III, ii, ch. 3); for the influence over the course of our thought that
63 he accorded to our own will, and finally to God, cannot be denied even
by those who presuppose only a single law of association. Precisely this
law is found in WOLFF (Psycho!. emp., § 107), REUSCH (Syst. L., §4),
CRUSIUS (Weg z. G., §90), KIESEWETTER (WA. d. L., II, p. 212), UE-
40
Of Ideas
BERWASSER (Psych.,§ 123), HOFFBAUER (L., §90), MAAf3 (L., §528 and
Vers. 1ib. d. Einb., p. 24 f), among others. Heinrich SCHMID (Metaphy. d.
inn. N., p. 242) reduces all the laws to the soul's living unity. BENEKE' s
definition in his valuable Psych. Skizzen (I, p. 378 ff.) has a number of
peculiarities. Others believe that there are several such laws which cannot
be reduced to a single one. Thus PLATNER (Aph., I, §278) and JAKOB
(Psych., §268, 269) assume three laws: those of similarity, simultaneity,
and order (or succession); others, e.g., GERARD, BEATTIE, ABEL add
10 these a law of contrast; HUME adds a law of causality, and so on. It
seems to me that all of these laws spring from that of simultaneity. Per-
haps my readers will also agree that none of the other laws is as generally
valid as is usually stated; rather, each requires a restrictive clause, which
makes it obvious that they are only particular applications of the law of
simultaneity. Concerning the law of similarity, it is not correct to state
that ideas of a pair of similar things reawaken one another; rather, the
condition must be added that the similarity consists in attributes which
we think in our ideas of them, or which are at least known to us. But if
this is the case, and we think of certain attributes in the concept of the
thing X which we also think of in the concept of the thing Y, or if the
idea of these equal attributes occurs to us when we represent them, be-
cause we often think of the property along with the thing which possesses
it, then it is obvious that our recollection of one thing when thinking of
the other can be explained by the law of simultaneity. And if someone
agrees with me on this point, he will admit that the same holds for the
law of contrast. For one only really says that there is a contrast between
two things if they differ greatly in one or two respects while being quite 64
similar in many others. And it must also be added that this contrast is
known to us. The law of causality, finally, would be too generally and
incorrectly expressed if one said that the cause recalls the effect and vice
versa. For if we are not acquainted with both the cause and the effect,
as well as with their original relationship to one another, thinking of one
will certainly not bring the other to mind. But if we do know both, and
indeed know their relationship, we must have represented both together
at least once. The most difficult case, I admit, is to show the dependence
of the law of succession, i.e., the law according to which entire sequences
of ideas are renewed in the order they first appeared in the soul. But as
closer consideration reveals that the ideas which we here describe as suc-
ceeding one another do not perhaps appear in distinct time-intervals, but
instead the succeeding always begins before the previous one has ceased
Li 1
 THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE§. 284.
to be, this law too may be explained in terms of the law of simultaneity,
as I attempted to show in no. 4.
Note 3. The distinction I drew in no. 7 between an idea and the ac-
companying image has not always been understood in this way. LEIBNIZ
seems to agree completely with my view when he writes (Nmtv. Ess., II,
ix) that two geometers, one born blind, the other a paralytic, would ex-
hibit equal concepts of spatial objects despite all the differences in the
images each had. Ce qui fait encore voir, he adds, combien il faut dis-
tinguer !es images des idees exactes, qui consistent dans !es definitions. 1
This opinion is also distinctly expressed in the Ars. cogit., part I, ch. 1
and 15. Finally, what KANT understood by the so-called constructions
of pure concepts by means of intuitions, and what he called schemata of
65 the pure concepts of the understanding in the Critique of Pure Reason,
seem to be nothing other than images accompanying these concepts ac-
cording to my definition. Now KANT distinguishes between the schema
of a concept and an image and says, for example, that five points next
to one another would be an image but not a schema of the number five;
by contrast, he defines the schema of a concept as "the idea of the gen-
eral procedure whereby the imagination produces its image." It seems
to me, however, that if the words "image" or "schema" are supposed to
designate ideas, the five adjacent points should not be called either im-
age or schema. For these points are not ideas. I would call their sum an
object standing under the concept five, i.e., an example belonging with
the concept. I cannot form any idea, however, of a procedure that our
imagination is supposed to follow in order to provide our concepts with
images, where image is supposed to mean certain objects standing under
these concepts, for I cannot take the imagination in any sense of the word
to be an ability for producing anything other than ideas. But if by images
we simply mean ideas of such objects, one may indeed call the capacity
of providing our concepts with images the imagination. It is in no way
clear to me why the mere idea of the particular procedure the imagination
follows in this activity could be called a schema belonging to the con-
cept. Consider a few of the schemata adduced by KANT himself. The
schema of substance is supposed to be the persistence of the real in time,
the schema of interaction is supposed to be the simultaneity of determi-
nations, and so on. Now are the ideas of the persistence of something
real for all time or of the simultaneity of several determinations, ideas of
1Which again shows how much one must distinguish images from exact ideas, which
consist in definitions.
42
Of Ideas
a procedure our imagination follows in a certain activity? It seems to me
that these ideas would say nothing of our imagination, or of the proce-
dures it follows on this or that occasion. It should be noted that FRIES
(Syst. d. L., p. 61, 68.) also distinguishes between images and schemata,
though in a different way than KANT, while KRUG uses the two words as 66
synonyms when he writes (Log., §45 a, note): "Moreover, corresponding
to concepts of genera and species there are certain internal intuitions or
images (schemata), which the imagination generates involuntarily, in that
the repeated intuitions of the individuals allow certain traits-wherein
their similarity consists-to be abstracted and assembled in a general im-
age." From this definition, I believe I may infer that this scholar connects
roughly the same concept with these words as I do, only I suppose that
there are images not only for concepts of genera and species, but also for
any genuine or even merely supposed object-idea. Nor do all the ideas
of which an image is composed have to be intuitions. Rather, some are
concepts, since intuitions can only enter into combinations to form new
ideas with the help of concepts.
Note 4. According to these definitions there is an unmistakable dif-
ference between the sense of the word "image" [Bild] and another used in
poetry, when certain fictions [Dichtungen] are given the name of (poetic)
images. If I am not mistaken, we give the name of fictions (n:otY)f.m) to
every idea 1 that we devise, not in order that those to whom we present it
shall believe that an actual object corresponds to it, but rather only with
the aim and in the sense that its consideration shall bring forth certain
feelings and resolutions in them. Thus whoever discovered the fable of
the wolf and the lamb was inventing [dichten], since he brought certain
ideas to our minds without any intention that we should take them to rep-
resent actual events, but rather only in order to be able to produce certain
feelings in us (namely, the abhorrence we rightly feel towards an oppres-
sor of the innocent, especially when he tries to cover up his crime through
false pretences). Such fictions (which usually occur at most as parts in
larger fictions), which consist in the representation of certain sensible ob-
jects that we choose to consider because of their similarity to the ones we
are actually concerned with, are called poetic images. Thus in the fable 67
mentioned above we call the lamb an image of oppressed innocence, etc.
1In his edition, Jan Berg reproduces the following marginal note from B's copy of the
WL: "Are fictions mere ideas? Are they not instead propositions, indeed entire collections
of propositions whose truth is not in question, in that they are presented merely in order
to bring forth certain feelings?"
43
 THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE§. 285. Of Ideas

Who could possibly confuse images of this kind with those discussed in person is wont to employ, especially those he uses t~ re~eal his thoughts
the present section? to others, is called the language of that person. A sign ts called a natu-
ra 1 ,SJ. ban of an idea if human nature, i.e., attributes which we all have in
§.285.* common, determines which idea it designates. All other signs are called
contingent; if a contingent sign was created by a decision, i.e., if the ob-
Signs for our ideas
ject A serves to designate an idea B because. we kno~ingly and willin~ly
connected them, and nothing more than accidental circumstances (which
1) As we saw in §284, our mind has the peculiarity that ideas that were
are not met with everywhere) determined this choice, it is called conven-
once connected with each other also mutually stimulate each other. We
tional. Thus, wringing one's hands is probably a natural sign, wagging a
use this peculiarity in the following way: certain ideas which can be easi~y
finger a contingent sign, and the way in which the Romans indicated that
stimulated are used as means to produce others (either in ourselves or m
a gladiator was to die is merely conventional. A sign is usually called. an
other people) that are more difficult to generate, but are associated with
expression if it is an external object, and the signified thing is somethmg
the former. An object which is used for this purpose, i.e., one through
internal, e.g., a thought, a sensation, etc. Thus, clapping one's hands is 69
whose idea we intend to stimulate in a thinking being some other, as-
generally taken to be a (natural) expression of delight. Most of the signs
sociated idea, is called a sign. The objective idea whose corresponding
~e use to produce ideas in other people consist in phenomena which can
subjective idea is supposed to be stimulated by the idea of the sign is
be perceived either by hearing or sight; the former may be called audible
called the signified idea, also the sign(fication [Bedeutung] of the sign. If
or auditory signs, the latter visible or visual signs. The former are usually
the signified idea has an object, then it is often called the sign(fied object,
produced with the organs of mouth, i.e., by the voice.
or aaain, the signification of the sign. Sometimes the words sense [Sinn]
and ~neaning [Verstand] are used synonymously with the word "signifi-
2) Ideas composed of other ideas, e.g., ideas of entire propositions,
are usually expressed by making use of signs for the individual ideas
cation". But a certain distinction could be made between them in the
of which they are composed, arranged in a certain order. When we use
following way. We could call the signification of the sign that particular
audible signs, their temporal order is roughly that of the order the simple
idea which it is intended to produce, and succeeds in producing; while
ideas they designate must be combined to form the complex idea. For
we could confine the words sense and meaning to those ideas which are
example, when we wish to produce an idea of an entire proposition, we
merely intended to be produced by a certain sign in a given case. Un-
first produce the sign which serves to produce its subject-idea, then the
derstandably, somebody who does not understand a sign can take it in a
sign which designates the copula, and finally the sign that is supposed to
sense or meaning which is quite different from its real signification. To
bring forth the predicate-idea. If we use visible signs, e.g., certain figures,
use certain signs in order to produce ideas in others is to speak or say
we place them one after the other in a certain direction (e.g., left to right,
something in the widest sense of these words. To inspect given signs in
top to bottom, etc.) and fix once and for all the order in which they are to
68 order to find out which ideas their author wanted to generate is called
be read.
reading in the widest sense. To grasp what ideas their author wanted to
3) According to the definition given in no. l, a collection of several
produce is to understand them. To assume that they have such and such
signs may also be called a single sign. Signs produced in the way de-
a sense, while they have another, is to misunderstand them. Finally, a
scribed in no. 2, for instance, are of this sort. In a more narrow sense,
proposition in which it is stated that certain signs have such and such a
I shall call single only signs that cannot be viewed as a collection. Such
sense is called an intopretation of these signs. An interpretation may be
single signs, especially those produced by the voice, are also called single 70
merely thought, or in its turn expressed with other signs, in which case
words. Such a single word or sign can, by the way, sometimes be called
it is called a verbal interpretation. If an object is used by everyone to
simple, and sometimes complex. I call it complex not merely when it is
designate a given idea, it is called a universally accepted sign, whereas
composed of parts, but when these parts make it easier for us to recall
if it is only used thus by some, e.g., by a certain people, it is said to be
the designated idea. When this is not the case, I call it simple. Thus the
merely customary for them. The collection of all signs which a given

44 45
 THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE§. 285.
expression "A flower that bears some similarity to a tulip and has a speck-
led corolla" is a collection of several words; the expression "Tiger-lily"
is a single, but complex word; while "considered", finally, I call a sim-
ple word, even though it contains parts ("con", "side", "red") which by
themselves designate something, because here they do not do so.
4) A sign which is used to signify more than one idea is called am-
biguous. Thus the German word "Tor" is an ambiguous sign, since it
signifies porta [door] as well asfatuus [fool].
5) Often the reason why we use an object to designate an idea B is that
we earlier used this object to designate a certain other idea A. In this case
the signification B is said to be derived from A. A signification which is
not derivative is said to be original. Thus the signification of the word
movement when it is used for a mental change, is obviously derivative
from another, which indicates change of location; the latter is likely to be
original.
6) A sign is said to be indeterminate for us if we do not know what
idea the speaker wanted to designate by it. If there are two or more sig-
nifications which are equally likely, the sign is called vacillating. If we
71 cannot guess at any idea which could be signified, we call it completely
incomprehensible. The more readily and reliably we recognise the signi-
fication of a sign, the more distinctness we ascribe to it. The distinctness
of signs must be carefully distinguished from the distinctness of ideas
(§281). Instead of "distinct", we sometimes use the terms clear, pellu-
cid, etc. It is easy to see that a sign which is vacillating or indeterminate
or even completely incomprehensible for a given reader in a given con-
text, may be understandable and determinate for another reader or in a
different context. Thus many of the passages in CICERO' s letters which
are indeterminate or completely incomprehensible for us may well have
been comprehensible and determinate for those to whom the letters were
addressed, or indeed to all of the learned people of that time.
7) A sign is used in its proper signification when it is used to des-
ignate an idea it was intended to; otherwise it is used in an improper or
borrowed sense.* A meaning which is at first improper may in time grad-
ually become proper.
*The borrowed sense must not be confused with the extended sense, which is more
proper. When natural historians class bats among the apes, they take the latter word in an
extended sense. If, however, we say that under certain circumstances, a man is an ape.
we speak in a borrowed sense.
46
Of Ideas
8) If a sign is used improperly, it usually occurs in connection with
several others, so that the idea of an entire proposition is expressed. In
such circumstances we give people to understand, either explicitly or tac-
itly, that we wish them to ascribe a sense to the sign which is as similar
to its proper sense as is possible if the sentence is to express something
reasonable and true. This noteworthy way of using a sign I shall call a 72
tropical mode of speech. Thus the word "fox" in the sentence "Go and
tell that fox!" (Luke 13, 32) is used tropically, since the context clearly
indicates that one is not to take it in its proper sense, but rather to mean
the cunning King Herod. In many cases the context in which the tropi-
cally used sign occurs is such that the tacit condition to attribute a sense
to the sign that comes as close to its proper sense as possible if the sen-
tence is to be true will permit us to determine this meaning easily and
precisely. Sometimes, however, this is not the case, and we are not sure
which idea we should connect with the sign. In cases of the first sort, I
call the use of the sign metonymic, in the second, symbolic, figurative, or
metaphorical. Thus the use of the word "fox" in the above citation was
metonymic, since the context indicates clearly enough which idea we are
to connect with the word, namely, that of the cunning of this man.
9) It is to be expected that when we use a sign in order to bring forth
a given idea, it shall also evoke others which have been connected with it
through simultaneity. I shall call the latter secondary ideas. It is clearly
important to know the nature of these secondary ideas-whether they are
weak or vivid, whether they arouse certain feelings and desires in us,
whether they might exercise a detrimental influence on our judgement,
etc. If the secondary ideas which come with a certain sign have a detri-
mental influence upon our judgements, I call them harmful, and the sign
itself I call impure. By contrast, a sign without such harmful secondary
ideas I call a pure expression. 73
l 0) Often, instead of using a sign a for a given idea A, we use yet an-
other object a which is merely a sign for a itself. Thus, for example, the
word "God" is a sign of the concept of a being whose actuality is uncon-
ditioned. If, however, the person in whose mind we wish to bring forth
this concept is too far away to hear our voice, we produce various visible
signs (letters), which designate the sounds of which the word "God" is
composed, and which in the proper order designate the word itself. The
sight of these signs will immediately bring forth the idea of the word
"God", and afterwards the idea of the object that the word designates.
Signs of this sort, i.e., signs of other signs, I call indirect with respect
47
 THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE§. 285.
to the ideas the latter designate. Signs which are not indirect are called
direct. A sign which was at first indirect can become direct with use. For
since the idea of the sign o. brings forth the idea of the sign a, and a brings
forth the idea A, o. and A often occur at the same time, and thus can be
directly connected, so that the idea of o. brings forth the idea A, without
the intervention of the idea a. If a does not draw enough of our attention,
it gradually drops out altogether. Thus for the beginner in astronomy, the
symbol =:::: is a sign of a scale, and indirectly of a certain constellation or
of an equinox. More experienced astronomers think directly of the latter
two, and the scale never occurs to them.
11) Finally, it should be noted that once we are accustomed to speak-
74 ing, we almost always accompany our thoughts with symbols, even when
we have no intention whatsoever of communicating these thoughts to oth-
ers. Thus we either actually produce these symbols, in whole or in part,
or else we content ourselves with merely representing them. This process
could be called speaking to oneself Sometimes we do this unintention-
ally, simply because our ideas are already so tightly connected to their
signs that the latter are produced every time we think the former; some-
times we do this intentionally, perhaps in order to bring about a more
precise connection between our ideas and the signs allotted for them, or
to make our thoughts more vivid, etc. Signs consisting in certain outer
changes, the production of which is more bother or which might be no-
ticed by others contrary to our intentions, e.g., audible sounds, are rarely
brought forth completely; rather, we only produce ideas of them, or make
only some of the bodily movements required to bring them about-e.g.,
we merely move our lips, taking care not to produce even a whisper in so
doing, etc.
Note 1. It seems to me that the word sign has two quite distinct mean-
ings. For when we call smoke a sign of fire and a blush a (not always
reliable) sign of guilt, we mean by "sign" something quite different from
when we say that the word "God" is a sign in the English language of the
concept of a being whose actuality is unconditioned. I will not deny that it
would be possible to find a concept covering both of these meanings, but
I do not think that this would be one of the meanings of the word "sign",
and certainly not the original meaning from which the others are derived.
For, first of all, it may occur by pure chance that two concepts, e.g.,fatuus
[fool] andjanua [door] have the same sign (Tor). And who would want
to claim that the concept encompassing the ideas fatuus and janua is the
original meaning of the word Tor? In the second place, it is false to say
48
Of Ideas
in general that a derived meaning must always be related to the original 75
meaning as a subordinate to a superordinate concept. The meaning of
the word "cock" as used in engineering, for example, is certainly derived
frorn the meaning the word has in natural history, but is certainly not sub-
ordinate to it. This example also shows that it is not necessary to go back
to the original meaning of a word in order to give a satisfactory definition
of a given derived meaning of a word. Thus I believed that I could define
the meaning of the word sign which belongs to logic (no. 1) without first
defining the other sense from which it is derived. Just so, it has never
occurred to any logician,* when defining the meaning of the word "con-
clude" [schliej3en] as he uses it, to begin with the meaning the word has
for a locksmith [=to lock]. If the reader nevertheless wishes to know how
r define the word sign in its original sense, I would say the following. If
smoke is called a sign of fire, and blushing a sign of guilt, this merely
means that these are attributes which allow us to infer the existence of
other attributes (i.e., fire, or a guilty conscience). One looks upon the for-
mer attributes as signs of the latter insofar as one thinks that they are more
easily perceptible (at least in certain cases). A sign in this sense would
accordingly be defined as an attribute, the recognition of which permits us
to know the existence of some other attribute. On this definition, both the
sign and the thing signified would be mere attributes. It might seem that
independently existing things can also be signs of others-e.g., smoke
might be a sign of a burning house. On closer consideration, however,
I believe I may observe that the smoke in and of itself only allows us to
infer the existence of a burning object if it is looked upon as the effect
of the latter. Accordingly, it would not be the independently existing ob-
ject, smoke, but rather this attribute of the smoke which serves as a sign. 76
And what we infer from this attribute is not so much the existence of the
burning object as the attribute of being on fire. But I will not insist on
this point, and it is easy to gather how the definition would have to be
changed if the above objection were recognised as well-founded, namely,
instead of speaking of attributes, one would speak of objects in general.
If the word sign is taken in this sense, it is interchangeable with the word
indicator (§ 112). One may also call smoke an indicator of fire, blushing
an indicator of guilt.
Since we have opened the question of the definition of this concept
of a sign, we cannot dismiss the question of how the other meaning, the
one we are obliged to consider here, was derived from it. This is not dif-
*With the possible exception of HEGEL.
49
 THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE§. 285.
ficult to guess. Sounds and other objects, the ideas of which are deployed
in order to stimulate certain other ideas associated with them in another
thinking being are, if not always, at least in most cases signs (indicators)
that the ideas in question are present in the mind of the being that pro-
duces those sounds or other objects. In formulating the definition in no.
1, I presupposed that we only directly present ideas, and not propositions
or judgements, by means of signs. Nevertheless, the latter seems to hap-
pen, in that we sometimes express an entire proposition not by means of
a combination of words, but instead by a single word, e.g., morior. 1 I
believe, however, that such words and combinations of words do not im-
mediately present the proposition as such, but rather only an idea of it.
Thus the sign only indirectly presents the proposition, just as the sign of
an objectual idea may be said to be a sign of the object itself. But if this
is not so, this may not be of great importance.
The concept of a sign is often defined in almost the same way I have
here defined it. One reads in JAKOB' s Psych. (§352): "Ideas used to re-
tain or stimulate the effects of the understanding are called signs." More
77 distinctly, KIESEWETTER writes (Log., Part II, §74): "A sign is an object
the intuition of which serves to bring another idea to mind." Compare
also METZ (L., §214), CALKER (L., §211), among others. I have only
two objections to these definitions. First, the way in which the idea stim-
ulates the signified idea, namely, because the two are associated, should
be mentioned. Second, it is not necessary that the object used as a sign in
fact serve to awaken the signified idea; rather, it is sufficient that it is used
with this intention. A sign remains just that, even if it is misunderstood
or remains unheeded. Older logicians seem to have thought more of the
original meaning of the word in formulating their definitions. Signum est,
quad nos in rei cujusdam a se distinctce cognitionem deducit. 2 On this
definition, the sight of an achromatic telescope could be called a sign of
Euler, if it reminded us that he was its inventor. It could also be called a
sign of a comet, in case we used it to discover the comet.
Note 2. HOBBES (Log., ch. 2, §2 and ch. 6, § 11) considered words
from two points of view, as characteristics (notae) of our thought, when
we use them ourselves, and as signs (signa) when we use them to com-
municate our thoughts to others. It seems to me that this distinction is
inessential. For even when we use words ourselves, this usually does not
occur from mere habit and is not completely unintentional. Rather, espe-
1 2
I die.
2 3
A sign is something that leads us to knowledge of a thing distinct from itself.
50
Of Ideas
cially in reflection, we use them with the definite intention of perceiving
our own thoughts, and present them to ourselves with the chosen signs in
roughly the same way we would present them to others.
Note 3. Natural signs are usually opposed not to contingent, but rather
to conventional signs. In my view, conventional signs are merely a kind of
contingent sign. It seems to me that JAKOB (Psych., §410), KIESEWET-
TER (L., Part 2, §76), MAAS (G1: d. L., §482) define the concept of a 78
natural sign too narrnwly when they require either that there be a causal
relation between the sign and the signified thing or that some third thing
be the cause of both. Are not two raised fingers a natural sign of the num-
ber two? But can they be looked at as cause or effect of this number?
Or is there a third thing which causes both? The most correct defini-
tion of a conventional sign may well be HOFFBAUER'S ( L., §112): "A
sign is conventional when its signification is fixed intentionally." For the
sake of distinctness, however, I would add, that this intention was pro-
duced through purely contingent circumstances, for intentions may also
be present with natural signs.
Note 4. It is difficult to determine what should be looked upon as
a single, though complex, sign and what should be considered a collec-
tion of several signs. According to the definition of no. 3, a collection
of several signs is a whole, the parts of which are themselves signs and
indeed signs of individual ideas, whose combination produces what the
whole collection indicates. A single but complex sign, by contrast, con-
sists of parts which ar·e indeed chosen to remind us of the idea it is sup-
posed to signify, but these parts do not represent all the constituents of
this idea. Instead, they either bear some similarity to signs belonging
to these constituents (e.g., hodie 1); or they only represent some of them
(e.g., providere 2 ); or they do not represent constituents of the concept at
all, but only certain attributes of its object (e.g., lectisternium 3 ), and the
like. Incidentally, there also seem to be exceptions to this definition. Ac-
cording to it, for example, the name of the flower Noli me tangere would
be only one word, though orthographers require that we divide it into
three parts. It seems to me, however, that they do so only because the
concatenation of so many letters in a single word would make it difficult
to read. Though orthographers should incorporate this in their definitions
of what counts as a sign, the same can hardly be required of logicians.
1
I.e., hoc die, this day.
To see ahead, look ahead pro+videre.
"Spreading a couch"-the name of a Roman propitiatory ceremony.
51
 THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE§. 285.
Nore 5. In my opinion, the concepts of tropical, metonymical and
79 metaphorical use of language set out in no. 8 may be justified not by
their agreement with prevailing usage, but rather on the basis of their
importance. Even if the terms be found wanting, the concepts I desig-
nate with them are certainly worthy of notice. It is undeniable that there
are innumerable cases where we use single words and turns of phrase in
the way I have called speaking tropically, namely, where we require our
interlocutors to take a word in another sense, similar to its proper signifi-
cation, when taking it in its proper signification would result in absurdity,
and where the similarity is constrained only by the assumption that our
sentence expresses something true and reasonable. Is not this way of us-
ing a sign noteworthy enough to merit its own designation? And should
one not distinguish the two sub-cases which might occur, one where the
meaning of the sign is sufficiently determined by this condition, and the
other where it remains vacillating and indeterminate? It seems to me that
only in these cases should one strive to avoid improper expressions.
Note 6. It can be seen from no. 11 that and why (in my opinion) ev-
erybody who has once learned a language also uses it even when he does
not actually intend to communicate his thoughts to others. I should like
to add that if we did not use the medium of language, all of our thinking
would become very uncertain; particularly, it would be difficult to han-
dle complex ideas which do not have a sensible object, unless we had
definite signs for them.* However, I do not dare claim that without this
medium no thinking, especially no judging, could take place at all. I do
not find convincing the reasons adduced by the two REINHOLDS (father
and son) in support of this (see Das menschliche ErkenntnijJvermogen
usw., Kiel, 1816 and Theorie des Erkenntnij3vermogens, Gotha, 1832).
80 For one thing, beings of a higher order than we are (at least God) do not
need signs in order to think, but it is also the case that creatures less per-
fect than ourselves, namely, animals, do not need signs for their ideas in
order to form judgements. Now from what human characteristic does it
follow that we of all beings require signs in order to judge? HOFFBAUER
(Psych., § 126) has pointed out correctly that the use of signs presupposes
thinking without signs. For in order for the word "rose" to become a sign
of the idea "rose", it is not enough that both ideas should have occurred
simultaneously in my soul and should thereby have become associated.
For there are thousands of associated ideas none of which is the sign of
* DAMIRON has many excellent remarks on the advantages of language in thinking
(Psych., t. 2, p. 108 seq.).
52
Of Ideas
the other. A sign requires intention: either I must utter the word rose with
the intention of producing the idea of a rose in myself or in somebody
else, or I must recognise that somebody else is acting with such an in-
tention. But for such intentional actions, as well as for their recognition,
judgements are required: thus it follows that even prior to the first sign
we invent, or that we recognise as invented by others, judgements must
have taken place.
Note 7. Treatises on logic often investigate the problem of the origin
of language. I should also like to make some suggestions on this subject.
It seems certain that man did not invent language in order to speak to him-
self, but to speak to others; hence it depends upon the social connections
which he has formed with other men. Man is so constituted that most of
his thoughts, sensations, wishes, and intentions, even without his knowl-
edge and intent, are with more or less accuracy reflected and recognisable
in his facial expressions, gestures, sounds, etc. From the fact that he is
fixing his eyes upon a certain object, we can see that he is thinking about
this object; and it is even more obvious whether somebody experiences
pleasure or pain, desire or aversion, courage or fear, etc. We can see
these things in each other, and the outward appearance of another person 81
is for us an indicator of his inner life; this does not require the degree
of sophistication which can be acquired only through language, for even
deaf mutes, children, and idiots can achieve it; even animals, devoid of
language and reason, dogs, apes, and others can see from our facial ex-
pressions whether we are angry or afraid, etc. A man, unless nature has
ravaged him, will acquire more capacities as he grows older: he will not
only see what others experience inside, but he will also know by what
signs he sees it and, consequently, what others can see in him. It seems
that even among the animals some reach this degree of understanding,
though not with clear consciousness. How else can we explain that they
sometimes behave as if they did something without really doing it? In
any case, there is no doubt that children and mutes have this ability. But
when man had come to the point of knowing that such and such facial
expressions, gestures, sounds, movements, etc., made others believe that
he had such and such ideas in him, then he was in a position to use these
external changes as signs in the proper sense of the word, i.e., as objects
from whose perception others are to infer the presence of certain ideas in-
side him. This means that a certain language had been invented; it did not
consist of anything but certain voluntary motions of the body which fol-
low automatically upon certain changes in the soul, and which were now
53
 THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE§. 285.
used merely to represent these changes. Men cried out when they wanted
to represent pain, and stomped their feet when they wanted to represent
anger, etc. If we call this oldest language a language of gestures, we
should not forget that sounds as well as looks and facial expressions of-
ten were connected with the gestures, at least those sounds which were
imitations of certain involuntary expressions of our inner life.
Most objects found in the environment of man, especially those at-
tracting his attention to a higher degree, namely, animals, made certain
noises from time to time: the sheep bleated, the lion roared, the spring
82 murmured. From a mere desire to imitate, if for no other reason, man
would attempt to copy these various tones and sounds. When he suc-
ceeded to some extent, he found that the idea of the entire object was
renewed in his mind as often as he produced the sound which was appro-
priate to this object, or whenever he heard this sound. It is not astonishing
that, later on, the production of these sounds was used in order to cause in
others the ideas of the corresponding objects; thus these sounds now be-
came signs of those objects. But the sound of a thing is not the only thing
that can be copied. It was probably soon realised that other peculiarities
of things, e.g., their way of moving, their posture, etc., can sometimes be
imitated with the result that this imitation produces an idea of the thing
itself. Hence these imitations, too, will have been accepted as signs, and a
limping person will have been signified by limping about, a blind person
by groping to and fro with closed eyes, etc. Hence a second, much more
complete language was invented, namely, the language of imitation or
similarity; it is characteristic of this language that reference to an object is
made by producing something resembling it. Just as the language of ges-
tures was not confined to gestures in the narrower sense, so the language
of imitation did not use merely gestures and sounds, or mere motions of
the body, but probably also other objects which were at hand; for exam-
ple, it is likely that drawings were made. The combination of these two
kinds of language-it is understood that the first was not given up after
the second was invented-made it possible not only to signify most inner
states (namely, those whose high degree of vividness produced physical
changes), but also most external objects, so long as they had a property
which made them conspicuous and which could be somehow imitated.
Things directly in front of them they probably indicated very early, sim-
ply by pointing with their hand or finger: a sign which, in a sense, is of a
83 special kind. It probably derives from the fact that one has to extend his
hand in order to grasp an object; consequently, the extension of the hand
54
Of Ideas
was initially merely a sign for the desire for this object. But once it was
realised that others look at an object to which one extends his hand and
that a certain idea was thus generated in them, they must have had the
idea of using this extension of hands even if they did not want to express
their desire to have the object, but merely wanted others to look at it and
form its idea. In order to avoid misunderstanding, they probably changed
the gesture somewhat: the grasping of the object became a mere pointing
with the finger. This example was probably not the only one leading men
to the discovery that, in order to signify an object, it is not necessary to
produce something that is similar to it; all that mattered was to make oth-
ers understand that such and such an utterance indicated that they were
to form an idea of a certain object. Once this discovery was made it be-
came possible to invent new signs every clay; the only thing required was
to point to a certain object while uttering a certain sound or perform an
otherwise insignificant action. In this way a third kind of language, the
conventional language, came into being. This language was a sound or
word language, i.e., most of its conventional signs were sounds or tones;
this can be explained from more than one circumstance. Sounds are the
signs that can be most easily produced. When hands and feet are bound
or busy, the tongue is still free. Sounds can be perceived by clay and night.
Sounds are signs with which we can force our thoughts upon somebody
who does not, at the moment, pay attention to us, or even does not want 84
to pay attention to us. Sounds are signs the author perceives in the same
way as the others, a circumstance which makes learning easy. Sounds are
signs through which, aside from their actual meaning, merely through the
way in which they are produced, we can express our state of mind; we
can indicate whether we speak seriously or in a jocular way, whether we
feel well or ill, whether we like the listener or dislike him, etc. Sounds,
finally, are signs whose modulation can influence the mood of the hearer,
can make him glad or sad, etc. It is understandable that, given all these
advantages of sounds, they were used almost exclusively, except when
the addressee was absent, or deaf. Considering that the subject of the ori-
gin of human language cannot be exhausted in a note, but only hinted at,
I break the discussion off at this point. DEGERANDO' s thoughts on the
subject are similar (Des signes et de I' art de Pens er, 4 Vols., Paris 1798,
Vol. 1, p. 105 ff.).
55
 THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE§. 286. Of Ideas

§.286.* 4) When we make use of our faculty of judgement, making judge-

ments about the various objects to whi~h the ideas we have formed apply,
Description of the most important ivays in ·which ideas originate ·rely new ideas sometimes appear 111 our soul, not yet separately, but
entl 'ts of these J. udgements. For example, the concept of"h avmg
· 1s
· l'k
1 e1y
l
~~· . . .
to have originated on the occasion of our first judgement, as the copula of
We must now consider in a few words the difficult problem of the origin
that judgement. .
of our ideas. To begin with, we must make a distinction between simple
5) We also have the ability to attend, i.e., to voluntarily cause an
and complex ideas.
idea now present in us to become more vivid than it would have be~n
J) We can say very little about the mode of origin of simple ideas
0
therwise. Although we accomplish this directly, or at least in certain
precisely because they are simple. All we can claim is that the mind
ses by voluntarily bringing about suitable changes in our bodies, it is
must have a faculty for producing them. This faculty becomes active only ~ .
certain that this attending does not immediately result in the production
under certain circumstances and stimuli. In particular, the kind of simple
of new ideas. Instead, ideas already present become more vivid. But as
ideas we called intuitions (§278) differs sharply from the other simple
more vivid ideas call forth greater numbers of associated ideas, and also
ideas (i.e., pure, simple concepts) in that they are the next and immediate
prompt our faculty of judgement to be more act.ive, it is under~tandable
85 (hence unexplainable) effect of certain changes within us; consequently,
that the voluntary direction we give to our attention has a very important
these changes are the objects represented by these ideas. Depending on
influence upon the formation of ideas.
whether these changes are themselves already ideas (or even judgements)
6) It sometimes happens that we wish to procure an idea we have
we can distinguish two kinds of intuition. Intuitions which have as their
never before had, or to renew one we had before. What we do to achieve
object another idea present in our mind may be called internal intuitions;
this can be called seeking out ideas. This is sometimes a matter of paying
if the object is a change which is not itself an idea, the intuition may
attention to ideas already present in us which we deem to be associated
be called external, because the question of the origin of such intuitions
with the one we seek. In other cases we attempt to bring about changes
leads us immediately to suppose that there is an external object which
in the outer world so that an object capable of producing the idea in us
effected this change in our mind. Experience shows that under certain
appears. Although such efforts do not always succeed, they do so at least 87
circumstances the most divergent external objects can cause intuitions
sometimes, and thus can be looked upon as a special means for generating
in us which are so similar that we can often detect no difference at all
ideas. Should someone object that the resolution to form a certain idea
between them. Thus we see red not only when we are confronted with
A presupposes the existence of this idea in our soul, I would reply as
a red body, but sometimes also without one, namely, when the eye is
follows: this resolution does not require the presence of the idea A itself,
pathologically affected in certain ways.
but only the presence of an idea of it, i.e., the existence of an idea which
2) Pure, simple concepts originate in a much different manner. Their
applies to it (either exclusively or not). For example, even if I do not
origin betrays a much greater activity of the mind. There is no doubt that
remember what bread is called in Russian (and thus cannot now form an
they are always occasioned by the presence of other ideas; it is likely that
idea of this), I can still resolve to find out, i.e., to bring to mind the idea
a new simple concept arises only when it proceeds from ideas currently
of this word.
in us in order to combine them to form a new idea or, instead, a complete
7) An activity which is opposed in a way to combination (no. 3) is
judgement.
that of separation or abstraction. The latter consists in directing one's
3) According to §277 it does not suffice for the explanation of the
attention to one of the individual parts found in a complex idea or even in
origin of complex ideas to assume merely that the several simple ideas
an entire judgement, and thus becoming aware of it as an idea in its own
that are its parts became active at the same time. Rather, we must as-
right and as such an object of our further reflection. Separation cannot
sume an activity of the mind made it happen that these several ideas were
indeed produce a new idea, but through it many ideas which are already
combined into a whole which is itself an idea. This formation of ideas is
86 called the formation of ideas by combination or synthesis.

56 57
 THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE§. 286.
present without our being aware of it may become clear or even distinct.
Permit me to call such ideas abstracted.
8) It is true that all our complex ideas are synthesised by an activity of
our own, but it does not follow from this that we are always conscious of
the parts of such ideas, even if we are conscious of the ideas themselves
(cf. §281). It is common, especially with ideas that we have formed in
88 early childhood and have frequently repeated since, that we can no longer
identify their parts. This is because whenever we renew these ideas they
fly past our mind with such a speed that our intuitive faculty does not
have enough time to grasp the individual parts. I believe that this holds
particularly for the lower generic ideas under which we subsume external
intuitions, i.e., the general ideas of colours, sounds, odours, etc., thus
particularly ideas like: red, blue, yellow, sweet, bitter, etc. I consider all
generic ideas of sensation to be complex, though I am still quite unable
to indicate the simple parts of even a single one of them. If any one
of these ideas were simple, it would have to be either an intuition or a
concept. But these ideas are not intuitions, since they are general ideas,
i.e., since they have not one, but several objects. But I can also not agree
that they are simple concepts if for no other reason than that for every one
of them there is another one incompatible with the first, but where the two
domains are so closely adjacent that it is often doubtful whether a given
intuition should be subsumed under one or the other. Thus red and yellow
are so closely adjacent that we often do not know whether we should call
a given intuition one or the other. The same holds for the colours blue
and green, green and yellow, etc. A similar point can be made regarding
sounds, odours, tastes, etc. This phenomenon is difficult to explain on the
assumption that the indicated ideas are simple concepts; but it is easily
understood if we assume that they are complex ideas containing concepts
of quantity. Thus the only remaining question is whether these complex
89 ideas are pure concepts, or whether they contain some intuitions as parts.
I must confess that I have of late been inclined toward the first alternative.
I came to this conclusion by considering that each intuition of which man
is capable has as its proper object a change that occurs in the mind at
the same time, hence something that is in existence only for a very short
time. From this it follows that we can detect a certain reference to a point
in time (a present or past now) in any idea that contains an intuition as
a part. Thus the mixed nature of the idea "Socrates" becomes apparent,
because I think of a philosopher by that name about 2000 years before
the present moment. But in the ideas: red, sweet, fragrant, and the like,
58
Of Ideas
I do not detect even the most remote reference to a moment present or
past. The more I think about it, the more probable it seems to me that the
e:eneral ideas which are now under discussion are, all of them, nothing
but concepts of certain laws that govern the changes in the mind that are
the objects of our intuitions. It seems obvious that the mental changes
which take place when we see must be different from those that occur
when we hear or smell, they must be of a different kind when we see
something that we call red than when it is something we call yellow or
blue, etc. But should it be so unlikely that our mind brings the peculiarity
of each of these changes under concepts? It judges, for example, that a
certain state repeats itself several times, or that this repetition takes place
in equal or unequal or constantly increasing or decreasing intervals, etc.
If this is the case, would it not be understandable that it happens in a way
which makes it impossible for us ever to become distinctly aware of it, 90
since the speed with which the individual ideas pass by is much too fast
to allow us to perceive them individually?
9) The preceding and §285 make it obvious that language and social
intercourse have a very great influence upon the origin and formation of
our ideas. We designate our ideas with special words, i.e., we associate
idea and word through simultaneity; this has as a consequence that every
recurrence of the idea makes the word come to mind, and conversely.
Through social relations with other persons, especially if we hear them
call several objects by the same name, we are led to consider what the
common attributes of these objects are, and we form the concept of a
thing which has all these attributes as the one presumably designated by
that name.
10) It is clear from this that most of our ideas originate without our
wanting to produce them. We can call them only given ideas; those pro-
duced by a conscious and deliberate activity may be called factitious.
Since the creation of a compound idea is conceivable only if its compo-
nent simple ideas are already at hand, we may call simple ideas original,
and compound ideas derivative.
11) We have already seen that the simple ideas must be either pure
intuitions or pure concepts. Now the external causes that play a role in
the generation of both kinds of idea have a much greater share in the
production of intuitions (if they are external) than of concepts. From
this it follows that intuitions indicate a certain object as their cause. For 91
the sake of this difference it should be permissible to say of our simple
concepts that they are innate, but of all other ideas, i.e., of intuitions, as
59
 THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE§. 286.
well as of compound concepts and mixed ideas, that they are acquired.
This must not be interpreted as if all simple concepts are with us fro111
birth, but rather only that the external world plays a much smaller role in
their origin than is the case with external intuitions.
Note. The claim made in no. 8 that general concepts of colours,
sounds, odours, and so on are pure complex concepts may meet with the
greatest resistance. It will be said that if this were the case, we should
all be able to communicate any such concept by verbally indicating the
simple concepts of which it is composed, without the help of a sensible
object producing an intuition standing under the concept. But it is well
known that this cannot be done: to convey what bitter means to someone,
we must give him something bitter to taste. And a man born blind could
never form the idea we connect with the word red, no matter how long we
spent describing it. It will be asked, further, if I do not sense the immense
difference between the ideas red, sweet, pleasantly fragrant, and the like
on the one hand and possibility, necessity, morally good, etc., which are
decidedly pure concepts, on the other. Finally, one will ask how I in-
tend to explain how even the lowest species of animals could form such
intricately complex pure concepts (as sensible general concepts must be
on my account)-for it is well known that they often distinguish colours,
sounds, odours and the like more precisely than we do. I reply that we
would only be in a position to teach by words alone what red or blue,
sweet or bitter are when we have attained a distinct awareness of the con-
92 cepts of which these generic ideas are composed. We have not yet, as I
admitted, succeeded in doing so. But even if we knew these constituents,
I do not claim that the concepts we could communicate by such a defini-
tion, e.g., the idea of redness we might produce in the mind of someone
who was born blind, would be exactly the same as what we think by the
word red. For us, who have already had many intuitions subordinate to
this concept (i.e., have seen many red things), the articulation of this word
gives rise to more or less vivid recollections of all these earlier intuitions,
since each is associated with the concept of red in general by the law of
simultaneity (it became so when we formed the judgement "This (what
we see right now) is something red" at the time we had the intuitions).
Such recollections of intuitions we had earlier, which stand under the
given concept, could never be associated by a blind man with his concept.
Indeed, it might even be possible for him to have recourse to intuitions
which stand under concepts that are merely similar and to compare, say,
red to the sound of a trnmpet. Now we understand the immense difference
60
Of Ideas
which everyone finds between such sensible concepts and others that are
completely divorced from the senses, such as possibility, necessity, etc.
The former are concepts whose appearance is always accompanied by a
number of intuitions roused from their slumber, while the latter can call
upon none. Concerning animals, finally, we know far too little of what
really occurs with their senses to raise an objection of this kind. It might
be correct to say that animals, too, have the capacity for concepts, only
not the capacity to become conscious of them; in this case it would not be
strange that animals approach and even surpass man in the minuteness of
their sensory discrimination. But even without this assumption, is it more
surprising that animals discriminate between colours, sounds and odours,
than that they comprehend spatial relations, which man always represents
through concepts? 93
§.287.
Other views on the subject
The question of the origin of our ideas has long been considered one of
the most difficult, and has received some decidedly odd answers.
1) We find ridiculous the view of logicians who consider the soul a
material substance, in which objects make impressions through the senses
and thus create ideas. Even disregarding the reasons in favour of the
simplicity of the soul, this explanation would still have to be rejected as
unsatisfactory, for we do not merely have intuitions, but also many other
ideas, e.g., of supersensible objects, or indeed objectless ideas.
2) In recent times, some have claimed it to be incomprehensible how
the soul, being simple, should be capable of forming an idea of a complex
object. It seems to me that the difficulty they claim to have discovered is
merely imagined. The principle: "Like can only know like," even if it is
older than EMPEDOCLES, is still unproven and false. For since the soul
can think of contrary things, e.g., the round as well as the square, it would
have to be both round and square according to this principle.
3) Concerning the species of our ideas which apply to several sensi-
ble objects, the sensible general ideas (e.g., man, flower, etc.) almost all
philosophers have described their origin roughly as follows: "Through
the impressions which individual objects make on our soul (via the or-
~ans of the body), intuitions arise. These either endure when the object
is no longer nearby, though they become weaker, or else they leave some 94
traces in the soul once they have disappeared, which are renewed when
61
 THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE§. 287.
another, similar object appears. If the soul receives many intuitions of
similar objects, it perceives in them certain common characteristics (no-
tas communes), and when it allows the other characteristics (which differ)
to fade from consciousness, while combining the common ones, a con-
cept is formed." PLATO (e.g., in Phileb.) and ARISTOTLE (De anim.,
Book 3, ch. 3, 4, and 8) already seem to have looked upon the matter
in this way. Among the moderns, KIESEWETTER (W A. d. L., I, p. 69
ff.; II, p. 171 ff.), KRUG (Fundam., §79) and many others, hold similar
views. On this account, the intuition, i.e., the idea which is produced
immediately through the action of an external object, would have to be
composed of a number of other ideas, namely, of all the concepts which
one can procure from it through analysis. For if the characteristics: "a
Roman, a learned man, a writer, etc." occur in the ideas: Cicero, Caesar,
Horace, etc., in such a way that they can simply be separated from them,
the latter ideas (Cicero, etc.) must contain the former (i.e., the ideas: a
Roman, etc.) as constituents. Thus they must be complex. Indeed, since
the number of such characteristics admittedly extends to infinity, they
must be composed of infinitely many parts. Now even if one doesn't find
anything impossible in such infinitely complex ideas, it can in no way be
assumed that such ideas could be produced by the immediate action of an
external object on our soul. Rather, it seems indisputable to me that the
production of every complex idea requires a special activity of our soul in
order to unite the simple parts. Even supposing that the ideas "red, pleas-
95 antly fragrant, prickly" were produced immediately through the action of
an external object, the idea which is supposed to be composed of all of
them (the idea, perhaps, of an object which possesses the collection of
all of these attributes) would not yet be present; its production would re-
quire a special activity of my soul, and indeed would also require certain
ideas which most certainly were not immediately produced by that ob-
ject, such as the concept of a being, that of possessing certain attributes,
of a collection, etc. In my opinion, the idea which the external object
produces in our soul through its action is always a simple idea (this), and
that, consequently, concepts such as "red, pleasantly fragrant" and so on,
under which we subsume the object indicated by the simple idea, are not
characteristics of the object which are to be found as constituents of its
idea (not notae constitutivae), but rather only the kind we believe we may
ascribe to the object. This also explains why we are sometimes mistaken
in doing this, which would be all but incomprehensible if these character-
istics were the immediate effect of the external impression.
62
Of Ideas
4) Only the adherents of the Critical Philosophy believe they have
proved that every intuition must contain a plurality, and indeed must con-
tain infinitely many parts. KIESEWETTER adduces the following proof
(W A. d. L., §51, p. 165): "In the critique of the cognitive faculties it
is shown that all our inner intuitions must be situated in time, and all
our external intuitions in time and space. For these are the conditions
under which we can have intuitions. Now since time and space are di-
visible ad infinitum, our intuitions must also be divisible ad infinitum."
I too believe that every one of our ideas fills (not, indeed, a space!, but
nevertheless) a certain time, and insofar as it does so must be composed
of an infinite number of parts. These parts, however, are not coexistent,
but only successive. From their presence it obviously cannot be inferred 96
that the objective idea, which appears to us in this subjective idea, is also
complex, as it would have to be, if the subjective idea were to be called
complex.
5) Another peculiarity of the way the Critical Philosophy explains the
origin of our ideas, particularly the empirical ones, is the claim that the
faculty of imagination must be active in the production of every idea, even
intuitions. Thus KIESEWETTER writes (ibid.): "It takes time to compre-
hend a plurality; if we had no faculty of imagination we would not be able
to have any intuitions. For otherwise, in comprehending a plurality, the
ideas of the preceding part would have disappeared from consciousness,
and no combination of the plurality would be possible." In my view, ev-
ery idea, even the simplest, must exist for a certain finite time in the soul,
for it is an alteration; several ideas can and must exist at the same time.
For this reason, I do not see why it follows from the reason cited that
the imagination must be active in the production of every complex idea.
For why must one idea have disappeared from our consciousness before
we arrive at another? But even if this were the case, how could one say
that we had produced the complex idea from the individual ideas which
had already disappeared, for indeed, it would no longer be these ideas
themselves, but rather reminiscences or memories of them.
6) A similar enw in the explanation of sensible general ideas, in my
opinion, is made by those who explain all abstracted ideas in a way which
claims that the abstracted idea first appears in the soul during the process
of abstraction. In my view, it must already be present when our soul-
forms the complex idea from which it is abstracted-though I do allow 97
that we may not have been distinctly aware of it, especially if the complex
idea was formed in our youth. Thus only when we speak of what we
63
 THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE§. 287.
are distinctly conscious can I agree with the distinction E. REINHOLD
(Erk. L., p. 392) makes between concepts which are produced analytically
and those which are produced synthetically-for a concept is produced
analytically only when we previously produced it synthetically, though
without being aware of doing so.
7) The ideas which I said were complex in no. 8 of the preceding sec-
tion are usually claimed quite firmly to be simple, so much so that they are
adduced as indisputable examples of simple ideas. Even HERBART does
this (Lehrb. d. Psych., § 124 and elsewhere). It is obvious what has given
rise to this opinion, namely, our inability to give a definition (analysis)
of these ideas, and the related inability to teach them verbally to anyone
who is not acquainted with individual objects standing under them. It
will be admitted that this incapacity-which may well exist only in acer-
tain respect and for a certain time-is no compelling proof. On the other
hand, the opposing claim is supported not only by the reasons mentioned
in the previous §,but by many other circumstances as well. We have actu-
ally succeeded in a certain measure in analysing some of these ideas, and
these are so similar to the others that if they were simple, the others would
be as well. Thus much of what acoustics teaches us about the nature of
certain souncls-e.g., that a pure tone is one which consists of uniform
oscillations-can be looked upon as a definition of these ideas (though
not an exhaustive one). The remarks of LEIBNIZ are also pertinent here
(Nouv. Ess, II, ii). He noted that we are sometimes able to produce one of
these supposedly simple ideas Min ourselves merely by putting ourselves
98 in a position to be simultaneously affected by two or more objects, which
in isolation would have produced in us the ideas A,B,C. For instance, we
can obtain the idea of a green colour if we allow a pair of objects, one
of which would produce the idea "blue", the other the idea "yellow", to
affect our eyes either simultaneously or in rapid succession. This exper-
iment makes it quite probable that the idea M is somehow compounded
from the ideas A, B, C.
8) With respect to the famous debate over whether among our ideas
some are innate and others acquired, it all comes down to precisely defin-
ing what is meant, something with which people have not been very con-
cerned. For when the PLATONISTS defined innate ideas as a kind of light
implanted in the soul by Goel, in which it intuits the objects of its knowl-
edge, it is obvious that not much can be done with such a figurative defini-
tion. By contrast, the EPICUREANS and the STOICS understood by innate
ideas those that arrive in the soul immediately by way of the senses, and
64
Of Ideas
consequently are not produced by reflection. On this definition, there
would have to be innate ideas, but these would only be intuitions, which
are usually reckoned among the acquired ideas. DESCARTES defined
innate (or natural) ideas as those, quae nee ab objectis, nee a volun-
tatis determinatione procedunt; sed a sofa facultate cogitandi necessitate
quadam naturae ipsius 1nentis manant. 1 This definition seems quite close
to mine, and in any case, under it one has good reason to claim that such
concepts exist. Only the examples DESCARTES cites, the concept of God,
of a mind, of a substance, etc., are not so well chosen, for none of them
is a completely simple concept. In addition, the appeal to intuitiveness
(intuitivitas et evidentia) as an indicator of innateness is insufficient. For 99
if one were to take this intuitiveness in its proper sense, and thus demand
that innate concepts apply to intuitions, it is not clear how the concept
of Goel, which might with still greater right be counted among the innate
ideas (and this holds for many other concepts), could be intuitive. But
if by intuitiveness one just means vividness, the distinction between in-
nate and acquired ideas would be one of more or less, which is by no
means what they intend. LOCKE (Ess., I, iii) disputes the theory of in-
nate ideas principally because he thought that a concept, if innate, must
be present in the soul before it had any experience, something which is
admittedly absurd. He was completely right to claim that all our ideas
arise through experience. But he overlooked that one may admit this and
still make a distinction concerning the way that experience brings about
ideas in us, a distinction which justifies us calling some of them innate.
LEIBNIZ (Nouv. Ess., p. 62) counters that when it is said that innate ideas
are in our soul from birth, this should not be understood to mean that the
actual ideas are, but rather only a certain disposition to form them (des
habitudes nature Iles, c 'est-cl-di re, des dispositions et attitudes actives et
passives, et plus que tabula rasa 2 ). He illustrates this with the image of
a piece of marble which has not yet been chiseled into a statue, but in
which there are already certain veins that betoken it. But when (ib., p. 34)
he extended the concept of innate truths to all purely conceptual truths,
and at the same time extended the concept of innate ideas to cover all
pure concepts (including the complex), he himself seems to have sensed
1which proceed neither from objects nor from a determination of the will, but rather
flow from the faculty of thinking alone, by a certain necessity of the nature of the mind
itself.
2 natural tendencies, that is, active and passive dispositions and attitudes, and more
than a tabula rasa
65
 THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE§. 287.
that he went too far (Mais si quelqu 'un donne un autre sens aux paroles,
je ne veux point disputer des mots 1); for complex ideas are produced
through an activity of the soul (namely, combination), which is essen-
lOO tially different from the activity involved in the appearance of any simple
concept. ULRICH (Inst. Log., § 120) suggested a middle path, but one
which is quite meandering. For can one not say of all our ideas, even the
intuitions and the most complex of concepts, that they dwell in the soul
merely virtually, as he demands? The theory of PLATNER is no clearer
(Aph., §661 ff.). In MAAJ3's G1: d. L. (§458), one reads: "A pure con-
cept (i.e., one which is not derived from experience) is called innate if it
is actually in the soul without having been produced or acquired through
the soul's own activity." It is not up to Logic to decide whether or not
there are any such innate concepts. Nevertheless, MAAJ3 gives us to un-
derstand (§459, note 1) that at most the concepts of the proper activities
of the understanding and those of the determination of things in general
are innate in this sense. In my opinion, however, one cannot suppose that
any idea is actual without assuming as its cause a certain activity in the
being that has it. For everything actual, with the sole exception of the di-
vine being, must have a ground of its actuality. And if what is actual is a
change which occurs in a being, like an idea, the ground of this actuality
must lie at least in part in this being itself, i.e., this being must bring about
this change in part through its own activity. Thus if, as GEJ3NER claims
(Speculat. u. Traum, Vol. 2, p. 165), only that can be called innate which
a man has from nature, without contributing anything to it by means of
his own activity, then there can certainly be no innate concepts.
9) The reader will readily gather what I think of the principle set out
by GASSENDI, HOBBES, LOCKE and so many other philosophers both
ancient and modern: Nihil in intellectu potest, quad non prius fuerit in
sensu. 2 To wit: I believe it is incoITect. For in my view, only simple
101 and unconnected ideas (intuitions) come to us through the senses, for
example, this (which is a red colour), this (which is a pleasant fragrance),
and so on. All other ideas, in particular all concepts and complex ideas
are not the products of the senses, but rather of ce1tain other activities,
as has already been made quite clear by the author of the Ars cogitandi
(I, 1). For this reason, I think that the classification of concepts as either
a priori or a posteriori, which is rooted in an incoITect understanding of
1But if someone wants to attach different meanings to the words, I don't wish to enter
into a verbal dispute.
2 Nothing can be in the intellect which was not previously in the senses.
66
Of Ideas
the distinction defined in §73 between pure and mixed concepts, should
be rejected, and that the latter should take the place of the former.
1()) The peculiar way in which HER BART (Lehrb. d. Psycho!.; also
the larger work [on Psychology]) explains the origin of our ideas cannot
be evaluated in detail here. I shall confine myself to the following few
remarks. (a) From §§52, 270, and other places one knows the opinions
which led HERBART to abandon the most common theses concerning the
nature of our ideas, and why I cannot agree with these reasons. It is
also not clear to me how the contradiction he claims to have discovered
in the usual theory would be avoided in his theory. For simply declar-
ing all ideas and, if you will, all other mental phenomena as well, to be
mere self-preservation, i.e., powers through which the soul protects itself
against the disturbances which would occur in its simple nature [Qualiteit]
due to the action of an external object, by no means removes the neces-
sity of ascribing many attributes (many acts of self-preservation) to the
soul, and indeed ascribing contrary attributes to it at different times-i.e.,
alterations. And if it is contradictory to think that a being changes, or
that one affects another, then there can be no acts of self-preservation (as
I already pointed out in §270), for the concept of these presupposes the
possibility of action and change. It is something like the so-called force of 102
inertia (vis inertiae ), which is defined as a force by means of which every
body strives to remain in the state in which it has been put by an external
cause. Just as this force cannot exist without an external cause, for in that
case there is in actuality nothing which strives to change the state of the
body, so too there can be no acts of self-preservation if there are no be-
ings capable of disturbing the constitution of others through their action.
(b) It also seems incorrect to me to say that the mere simultaneous exis-
tence of several acts of self-preservation suffices for the production of a
complex idea, since I think that a certain combination of these is neces-
sary to produce a proper whole. (c) From § 125 of the Lehrb. and other
places in HERBART' s writings it seems to follow that it is not actually the
acts of self-preservation themselves but rather effects of these produced
under certain conditions, which HERBART calls ideas. Now HERBART
does not at bottom deny that these effects, and thus the actual ideas, come
to be and pass away. For when he says, e.g., that an idea is transformed
into a mere striving to represent, it is clear that the idea itself is no longer
present. Now how do these changes come about, if a being's powers
never change? In order to deal with this difficulty, HERBART places all
substances in an intelligible space, where they move about on various oc-
67
 THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE§. 287.
casions. [t seems to me, however, that if nothing ever changes in the inner
attributes of these beings, such motions in intelligible space (changes of
intelligible place) are inconceivable. (d) Nor do I understand how the
mere simplicity of the soul is supposed to account for why opposed ideas
repel one another. If in eve1y plurality of ideas, each repelled the others,
one would be able to claim that the simplicity of the soul was incompat-
l03 ible with a plurality of ideas. But since on HERBART' s dispensation not
all, but only certain ideas repel one another (principally those which be-
long to the same sense, e.g., ideas of colours, where blue and red repel
each other more strongly than blue and violet), the basis for the explana-
tion must lie in something peculiar to such ideas. (e) It is equally difficult
for me to see how the unity (or simplicity) of the soul implies the com-
bination of all our ideas. (f) I find astonishing the claim that ideas and
concepts are only to be distinguished in a certain respect, that every idea
can also be called a concept insofar as it represents an object. (g) By
contrast, I quite agree with the remark that the kind of faculty of abstrac-
tion many logicians seem to imagine we have, one by means of which
the soul can dissolve associations that have come to exist between certain
ideas as it pleases, simply does not exist. Our soul can combine, but it
cannot dissolve, at least not immediately. But it can do this indirectly,
it seems to me, by ceasing to attend to the ideas whose connection is to
be dissolved. In this way the connection becomes steadily weaker, and
gives way to stronger combinations. (h) It may well be true, as HERBART
says, that along with every general idea a number of individual objects
standing under it which we have known also occur to us by association.
But one should not look upon the ideas associated with a certain idea
as constituents of the latter, as HERBART seems to do (Lehrb., §180).
(i) When he (ibid.) wants to explain the origin of general concepts through
judgements "which attribute and deny various kinds of characteristics to
the word one seeks to define," I counter that we cannot seek the definition
of a word unless we already have the general idea it designates. Rather,
l04 it is simply a matter of becoming distinctly aware of the constituents of
this concept. Moreover, the characteristics that are attributed or denied
in the production of a general concept are themselves general concepts.
(k) A great many passages (e.g., Psych., §37, § 124) seem to show that this
scholar considers the ideas "this red", "this sweetness" to be simple (for
me, they are only complex insofar as the ideas "red", "sweetness", etc.,
belong to their content). By contrast, he considers the general ideas "red
in general", etc., to be composed from the ideas of the individual things
68
Of Ideas
hich are red, sweet, etc. (I see things quite differently.) Finally, he
~inks that all ideas which come to exist in the human mind are produced
and composed from the indicated simple ideas "this red, this sweetness",
etc., i.e., composed purely of intuitions. For my part, I think that merely
· order to combine two intuitional ideas in order to form a new idea, one
!11 .
or more conceptual ideas, in particular, that of a collection, are reqmred.
§.288.
How the lack or cessation <~fan idea is to be understood
From the above description of the way ideas originate, it will not be dif-
ficult to understand how ideas may also cease to be.
1) If the immediate cause of the existence of an idea is a change
brought about in the soul by the action of an external object (as is the
case with all external intuitions), it is understandable that it will cease to
be if the cause of this change ceases.
2) If, however, the idea is not such an immediate effect of a change
brought about by the influence of an external object, it will have been
produced by a greater activity of the soul, and it is quite comprehensible l05
that it will cease to be when the activity required for its production does.
It is clear that this happens as soon as we suppose that the activity of the
soul has been directed towards something else. For given the finitude of
the soul's powers, it follows that it cannot produce and sustain an infinite
number of ideas at the same time.
3) It is no harder to explain the fact that there are ideas which the soul
so far lacks, i.e., ideas which are not only not present now, but never have
been previously either. For why should there not be infinitely many ideas
which we have never produced in the entire time of our existence, simply
because the conditions required for their production have never been met?
Countless intuitions, for example, must be lacking in us, simply because
we have never been in the spatial and temporal relations with a certain
external object which are necessary to stimulate the change needed for
the production of the intuition.
§.289.*
Survey of the most important activities and
states of our mind connected with ideas
At the end of this chapter, let us present a brief overview of the activities
and states of our mind connected with ideas which are most important for
the purposes of logic.
69
 THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE§. 289. Of Ideas

I) First of alL ideas may be completely absent from our mind, i.e., not of its known attributes, particularly the sensible ones. If we succeed in
only are they not present now, but also were never present earlier. This this with ease and an image comes before our mind which contains many
relation can be called the complete absence of such ideas, also the lack or sensible ideas, we say that we are able to represent this object easily and
106 non-possession of ideas. intuitively. By contrast, when it is difficult for us to put together such
2) It may also happen that an idea, although not now present in our an image, we say (admittedly quite improperly) that we are incapable of
mind, was so formerly. In this case there exists a certain trace of this idea representing this object.* LOS
in our mind. I will call this condition a previous presence of the idea.
Here it is especially important whether the trace left by the idea is so
constituted that the mind, without knowingly and willingly directing its
attention to it, may form an intuition of this trace and thence a recollection
of the idea itself. If it is, we say that the idea is one we recall; if not, it
depends upon whether we can at least recall it when we want to, by means
of a certain inner activity of our mind (striving to recollect) and without
making use of external aids, or whether such activity remains fruitless. In
the former case, we can recall an idea only tvith difficulty, while in the
latter it has been forgotten. A forgotten idea may be one we can bring
to mind with the help of an external object, or it may be so completely
forgotten that even when it is produced in us again from without, we
no longer remember ever having had it. The former may be said to be
forgotten but for an external reminder and the latter utterly forgotten.
Here it should be noted that we often know quite well whether we shall
be able to recall an idea forthwith, or only with difficulty, or only with
the help of an external reminder, or not at all. One says, for example:
I haven't completely forgotten that man's name, but I can't remember it
just now.
107 3) If an idea is now present in our mind, it may be either obscure
or clear (§280), confused or distinct to a greater or lesser degree (§281),
more or less vivid (§275), etc.
4) There may be ideas which our mind forms easily and under stimuli
which do not suffice for the production of other ideas. These are called
familiar. It is clear that familiarity admits of degrees. Though it may
be true that only ideas which have been often produced in us become
familiar, this circumstance alone does not suffice to determine the degree
of familiarity-for many other circumstances have an influence as well.
Nor must it occur to us when a familiar idea is produced in us that it is an
idea we have often had before.
5) If we are aware that we have a certain idea and believe it to be
objectual, we usually set ourselves the task (§284) of producing an espe- *In a still more improper sense this expression is applied to entire propositions and
claims, when we say that we cannot imagine [vorstellen] them-i.e., we cannot take them
cially vivid and complete idea of the object of the idea by combining all
to be true.

70 71
 Of Judgements

PARTII . S·oul ·
htS For how many different judgements may be formed by different
mbinations of the same parts!
Of Judgements co 1 . . d
4) If several subjective ideas a,b,c,d, ... are to resu t ma JU ge-
men t M' they must at least · be in the mind simultaneously in the sense
that before one of them has completely disappeared, another has already
§.290.* begun. For if this were not the case, if, for instance, we. had .forgott~n the
subject-idea of a proposition before we came to consider its pre~1cate­
The concept of a judgement a it would certainly not be possible to form the judgement. But JU St as
1'd e,,
the mere simultaneous presence of certain ideas in our mind by no means
The reader already knows from § § 19 and 34 what concept I connect with ensures that they constitute the parts of a single idea, so too it cannot en-
the word judgement. It is already clear enough from what was said there, ure that they constitute the parts of a single judgement. Rather the ideas
especially when compared to §48, that a judgement is completely differ- smust have a peculiar connection with each other. If I am asked what th'is 110
ent from a mere idea of a proposition (even a subjective one). Someone connection is, I can answer only that it must be a sort of mutual influence
who merely represents the proposition "The sun is a fireball" does not of these ideas upon each other. But I am unable to determine what sort of
have to take it to be true, and if he does not take it to be true, one cannot mutual influence there must be in order for a judgement to result from the
say that he forms the judgement "The sun is a fireball." Given that we presence of several subjective ideas; and perhaps it can only be conceived
form judgements, we may certainly attribute to ourselves the ability or as an activity which produces this result.
power to do so. We call this the power of judgement. 5) Our will has a certain influence upon the formation of our judge-
ments, since we can (§286, no. 5) direct our attention towards some ideas
§.291.*
and withdraw it from others. In this way we can completely change the
course of our thoughts. But no matter how significant this influence of
Some attributes common to all judgements
the will is, it never directly depends on our will alone whether or not we
form a judgement. The formation of judgements follows a ce1tain law of
1) Just as we suppose that for every subjective idea there is an objec-
necessity, and depends only upon the nature of the ideas that are present
tive idea which constitutes its matter, so too we must assume that every
in the mind at that time.
judgement is the appearance in the mind of some proposition, which is
Note. In many treatises one reads that a judgement is essentially noth-
the matter of this judgement.
ing other than a distinctly thought concept. KRUG (L., §51, note 1), for
!09 2) Actuality must be ascribed to judgements just as it is to subjective
instance, says this, and SCHULZE (L., §45) adduces the following exam-
ideas. They have actuality, namely, in the mind of the being that forms
ple: "The judgement 'The body is red' contains the same combination of
them, and during the time that it does. For judgements are composed of
concepts which occur in the concept of a red body." CRUSIUS (W z. G.,
ideas: and how could the parts be actual if the whole they constitute was
§202) had already said: "A proposition only differs from a complex idea
not? But just as ideas do not exist of themselves, but are only actual in
in the way it is considered and intended. With complex ideas one thinks
something else as an adherence, so too is this the case for judgements.
of one part and the other, and considers them together as a whole, e.g., the
They exist only in beings which form them.
immortal God; while with propositions one thinks of the ideas with the
3) But if every proposition is composed of parts that can be reduced
intention of representing the relation between them, e.g., God is immor-
to ideas, then every judgement, as the appearance of a proposition, must
tal." In my opinion, such claims are prompted by the fact that in many
also be composed of parts. Indeed the judgement must contain as many
cases there are great similarities between distinctly thought concepts and
parts as occur in the objective proposition that constitutes its matter. On
judgements, as well as by the fact that when our soul thinks a concept
the other hand, one cannot say that someone forms a certain judgement
distinctly, i.e., notices its constituents, it often forms judgements about
merely because all the ideas of which the judgement is composed occur in

72 73
 THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE§. 292.
lll the objects standing under the concept and, conversely, many judgements
provide the occasion for forming a distinct concept. When, for example,
we render the concept "world" more distinct and become aware that it
contains the characteristic of contingency, this readily provides the occa-
sion for us to form the judgement: the world is a collection of contingent
substances. When, on the other hand, we form the judgement: A trian-
gle may contain a right angle, this provides the occasion for forming the
(distinct) concept of a right-angled triangle. But one should not claim for
this reason that a given judgement (and certainly not every judgement)
is one and the same as a distinctly thought concept. Nothing is stated
through the concept, while a judgement states something. And if this
were not the case, if any proposition contained the same constituents as
a concept, combined in the same way, how could it be true, as CRUSIUS
says, that the two may be distinguished in the way they are considered and
intended, or that one thinks of the same characteristics as being united in
a sum in the concept while considering only their relations in the propo-
sition? But it isn't even true to say that the concept "the immortal God"
contains the same constituents as the proposition "God is immortal." For
the former may be more distinctly expressed as follows: "God, who is
immortal"; from which one may gather that the concept of the relative
pronoun "who" occurs in it, but not in the proposition. The difference
between the constituents of the concept "a red body" (i.e., a body which
is red) and the proposition "The body (i.e., this determinate body) is red"
is even more obvious. For the idea "this", which occurs in the proposi-
tion, certainly does not appear in the concept. The more obvious what
I said in no. 5 becomes to me through innermost self-consciousness, the
more mysterious it becomes why many philosophers (I will mention only
FICHTE and FRIES) describe judgement as a voluntary activity, and rea-
son as the freest of human powers.
§.292.
What we call a single judgement, and when we say of two
or more judgements that they are equal or unequal
Considerations similar to those set out in §273 make it clear that it is
l 12 most appropriate to look upon the entire time during which one and the
same objective proposition appears uninte1rnptedly in a mind (even if this
occurs in different ways) as the duration of a single judgement, and only
to speak of more than one judgement when the same proposition occurs
74
Of Judgements
in the same mind at broken intervals, or when it appears in the minds
of different beings or, finally, when we are speaking of the appearance
of different propositions. It is equally obvious that we may say that the
judgements we can distinguish numerically in the way just described must
·also be considered at least unequal if they are appearances of different
propositions. When I speak of equal judgements in the sequel, the very
least one should gather from this is that they are judgements containing
the same proposition. Under other circumstances, this equality may also
be extended to cover other attributes.
§.293.*
Strength or vividness ofjudgements, and confidence in a judgement
Since each idea has a certain vividness, it is reasonable to attribute vivid-
ness also to judgements, insofar as they are combinations of several ideas;
but from this vividness, which results from the vividness of its individual
parts, we have to distinguish the strength or efficacy which results from
the particular way in which those parts are combined to form a judge-
ment. Since a judgement is not a mere sum of ideas, but consists in a
certain efficacious combination of them, and since this combination can
be more or less strongly felt, the efficacy of the judgement will depend
upon this strength, even if the content and vividness of the individual l 13
ideas do not change. I am going to call this degree of efficacy or strength
of a judgement the degree of confidence with which we form it. With
respect to the proposition that forms the content of the judgement, the
degree of confidence with which it is formed is also called the degree of
approval (assensio) that is attributed to the proposition. Sometimes it is
called the degree of our certainty or acceptance. If two different persons
each form a judgement with the same content, so that both contain the
same proposition, and if the individual ideas of which these judgements
consist all have the same vividness, it is still possible for there to be a
great difference in the degree of confidence with which each of them ex-
presses his judgement. The judgement will show greater effects in the
person who forms it with greater confidence than in the other person, and
conversely where the efficacy of a judgement is more pronounced, given
the same degree of vividness, confidence must be higher.
Note. It is necessary to distinguish the vividness of a judgement, i.e.,
its efficacy insofar as it derives from the strength of its constituent ideas,
from confidence, i.e., its efficacy derived from the degree of strength with
75
 THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE§. 293.
which the individual parts are united to form a whole. This becomes par-
ticularly obvious when one of these two magnitudes almost disappears,
while the other reaches a relatively high level. It turns out that in both
cases the efficacy of the judgement is very small. Thus if we point out to
a voluptuary that lust engenders pain, he will hardly be moved; not be-
cause the ideas of which this truth consists do not have enough vividness
for him, but because he does not form this judgement with sufficient con-
fidence. It occurs equally often that persons who have not the least doubt
concerning certain religious truths nonetheless show little effect of them
in their behaviour, simply because the concepts of which these truths are
composed have no vividness in their souls. The term confidence seems
114 the best among the available alternatives. For conviction will be used
in opposition to persuasion in order to convey that the judgement one is
convinced of is supported by valid reasons, and is therefore true. Cer-
tain(y is indeed often used with the same meaning that I here assign to
confidence, as when one says that someone judges with complete cer-
tainty, or that he is not very certain, and the like. I believe, however, that
this word should be reserved to designate another concept which shall
be defined below and hence should not be used for the concept presently
under consideration. Nor is reliabiliry a word which might be used for
our concept, for it indicates an attribute that does not apply so much to
our judgements as to the propositions which constitute their matter, and
which can moreover only be ascribed to those which have a high degree
of probability. The most serviceable words would be assent or approval
(assensio ); yet these do not designate the attribute of the judgements we
are speaking of in abstracto, but rather the judgements which possess this
attribute, i.e., the corresponding concretum. Thus we would hardly say
that someone judges with this or that degree of assent, though we would
say that he gives his full or partial approval to this or that proposition.
This expression makes it clear that we look upon approval not simply as
an attribute of a judgement, but rather as a judgement. Admittedly, the
word "confidence" is far from perfect, for it is also true that in normal us-
age we reserve it for judgements which have a high degree of probability.
But when we already have a word (namely, certainty) to designate such
high degrees of probability, it is permissible to give the other word an ex-
tended meaning, especially in view of the fact that its derivation is not at
odds with such an extension. Confident [Zuversichtlich] seems to mean
the same thing as trusted [Zuversehentlich]. Thus the word confidence
[Zuversicht] seems to be at the root of the expression "to place one's trust
76
Of Judgements
in something" [sich zu einer Sache verselzen]. It also reminds us of some-
thing which is seen or is visible [sichtlich]-yet for all that, "confidence"
does not remind us as vividly as the word "certainty" of the associated 115
concept of knowledge, i.e., a judgement which cannot be in error. Be-
cause of its importance for logic, the concept of confidence, in the sense
used here, is discussed in almost every treatise of that science. However,
I take exception to the fact that it is not sufficiently distinguished from
another related concept. This other concept is the concept of probabil-
ity. not in the sense of § 161, but in the sense in which it is employed in
ordinary life. We usually call a proposition probable if it stands to propo-
sitions accepted by a certain being in the relation of probability in the
sense of§ 161, and if, in addition, the degree of this probability is greater
than one-half. Since I shall speak about this concept only later, I shall
indicate the difference between it and the concept of confidence at that
time.
§.294.*
Distinctions between judgements based upon
parallel distinctions between propositions
Since for every judgement there is a proposition which comes to appear
in the mind of a thinking being via the judgement, it is clear that for
every particular kind of proposition there will be a corresponding kind
of judgement, and that we may use the same terms in both cases. If in
the theory of propositions we distinguish between simple and complex,
true and false, analytic and synthetic, conceptual and intuitional, and so
on, so too may we extend such distinctions to cover judgements. It will
be obvious what is meant by a simple or complex, true or false, analytic
or synthetic, conceptual or intuitional judgement. Let us add here that
judgements which contain an intuition, especially those which are held to
be true, are usually called experiences or judgements (~f experience in a
very broad sense of these terms. 116
§.295.
Clear and obscure judgements
In common life we classify not only ideas but also our judgements as
either clear or obscure. We say, for example, that someone recognises
77
 THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE§. 296.
something only obscurely, while he has understood something else clearly.
Obviously, we are speaking here of entire judgements and not just of
ideas. It seems to me, however, that the distinction between clear and
obscure judgements is best understood in the way I determined the differ-
ence between clear and obscure ideas in §280. For just as ideas appearing
in our minds can, as something actual and present in us, become the object
of our powers of intuition, so too is this the case with our judgements. We
can also procure intuitions of the latter and, indeed, we must have such in-
tuitions whenever we are definitely aware of one of our own judgements,
and whenever we form a judgement to the effect that we judged this or
that. Just as we call clear those ideas we intuit within ourselves, judge-
ments formed in such a way that we form intuitions of them deserve to be
called elem: Those for which this is not the case may be called obscure.
Note. Given that common usage so often extends the concepts of clar-
ity and obscurity to judgements, it is odd that most logicians only speak
of the distinction with regard to concepts, just as if they assumed that only
concepts could be divided into the clear and the obscure. Some, though,
hold the opposite view, and maintain that the distinction between clarity
and obscurity is not limited to concepts alone, but rather extends to ideas
in general, under which, as is well known, they include judgements along
I l7 with what I call ideas. Thus FRIES (Syst. d. L., §9) speaks of obscure
and clear ideas in a way which makes it unmistakable that judgements
are also covered. How else could he say (p. 51): "All of these cognitions
are constantly present in me, but in every case only a fraction, sometimes
this, sometimes that, is represented clearly." There is still a problem here
however, in that this distinction is never referred to in the theory of judge-
ments.
§.296.
Distinct and confused judgements
1) The concept of distinctness may, I believe, be extended just as the
concept of clarity was. Recall that we called an idea distinct (§281) if we
know its content, and thus are able to indicate whether it has parts and,
if so, what these are. Similarly, we may say that a judgement is distinct
if we are able to determine its parts (it will of course have some parts in
every case). If we are unable to do this, it may be called indistinct or
confused.
2) Just as we distinguish degrees of distinctness in ideas, we may also
do so for judgements. If a judgement is distinct only to the extent that
78
Of Judgements
its immediate parts are known to us, but not the parts of these parts, that
is, if we know its subject- and predicate-ideas and its copula, but do not
know whether these parts are simple or complex nor, if the latter is the
case, what those parts might be, we shall say the judgement is distinct to
the first degree. If the immediate parts of the judgement are also distinct,
but only to the extent that we know their immediate parts, we may call it
distinct in the second degree, and so on. If, finally, there are no parts at
all of the judgement of which we do not have a distinct idea, if, namely,
we are able to set out an analysis of the judgement into its simple parts,
and we recognise these parts as simple, we call it perfectly distinct. 118
3) No judgement which is distinct merely in the first degree is per-
fectly distinct. For although we know what its immediate parts are, we
do not know whether these are simple or complex. A simple judgement,
however, i.e., a judgement whose immediate constituents are simple, is
perfectly distinct if it attains the second degree of distinctness. For we
then already know the simple parts of which it is composed and know
that they are simple. Finally, every judgement which has only finitely
many parts admits of only finitely many degrees of distinctness.
Note. Although I cannot draw support for my attempt to apply the
concept of distinctness to judgement from previous logical researchers, it
seems to me that common usage favours it along with the similar applica-
tion of the concept of clarity to judgements. For do we not often say that
we understand this or that quite distinctly or, in the contrary case, that we
only recognise something indistinctly?
§.297.
Whether every judgement has a beginning and an end
Whoever admits that our ideas have a beginning and an end because they
are merely changes occurring in our minds (§282) will also have to claim
the same for our judgements, since they are composed of ideas. Thus all
of our judgements are also of finite duration and by their nature not per-
manent, but rather changes occurring in our souls, the effects of forces
that can only work in time. The contrary claim that none of our judge-
ments begins or ends stands in too stark a contradiction with our inner
awareness. If it were true, when we say we have produced a judgement, 119
really nothing more would have happened in our soul than that a judge-
ment which was already present there became more vivid; and when we
recall a judgement we formed earlier, it would simply be a matter of
79
 THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE§. 298.
the judgement increasing in strength or confidence. If this were really
the case, if the phenomenon which we call the abandonment of an early
judgement and the adoption of a new one contradicting it really were
just a matter of one becoming stronger or more confident than the other,
one would have to believe that a judgement we have contradicted could
never occur in our soul with the same confidence that another judgement,
which has never been contradicted, can. But this is not so. Rather, when
the reasons determining the previous judgement have been completely
eliminated, or when we see that they in fact speak in favour of the exact
opposite, namely, our newly adopted belief, the recollection of the ear-
lier error detracts in no way from the certainty of our present judgement,
except perhaps insofar as it prompts the thought that we might now be
mistaken just as we were then. But this thought is a completely differ-
ent judgement from the one we made previously, one which moreover
presupposes the falsity of the latter.
§.298.
Whether eve1y judgement leaves a trace after it disappears
If my claim (§283) that every idea leaves an actual trace when it has
ceased to be is correct, then we may assume the same to hold for all of
our judgements.
1) Concerning clear judgements, i.e., those of which we have formed
120 an intuition: because the intuition, which is an idea, leaves a trace, it
also serves as a trace of the judgement itself. For if the trace left by the
intuition is so constituted that it permits us to recognise the intuition it
came from, it must also permit us to recognise the judgement, which is
the object to which the intuition applies.
2) But judgements which do not become clear to us may also leave
a trace after they disappear. For since every judgement is composed of
ideas in a certain combination and interaction, it cannot cease to be unless
these ideas either cease to be or at least no longer stand in that combina-
tion. But as this combination is something actual, it seems to follow, for
the reasons I adduced in support of a similar claim regarding ideas (§283,
no. 2), that this combination cannot cease to be without leaving behind a
certain trace in our soul.
3) We proved that each idea leaves a trace by appealing to our remark-
able ability under certain circumstances to recall ideas we had previously.
But we also have such an ability with respect to our judgements. These
80
Of Judgements
too we recall from time to time. But this can only happen if we become
aware, not of the judgement itself, but of a trace it left after its disappear-
ance.
4) Certainly, then, there are such traces, and not just in some cases: all
of our judgements leave traces after their disappearance, which are con-
stituted differently depending upon whether the judgements were formed
with more or less vividness and confidence, were stronger or weaker, etc. 121
§.299.
Effects of these traces of our judgements
!) It is easy to see that if our judgements leave traces, these will pro-
duce effects similar to those produced by the traces of our ideas. They
too. as something actual within us, may under certain circumstances be
intuited. Permit me to call such intuitions of a previously formed judge-
ment a renewal, revival, or reawakening of the judgement; one should
not be misled into thinking that such an intuition of the trace of a previ-
ous judgement is a kind of repetition of the judgement, i.e., forming anew
the judgement whose trace we now intuit. This cannot be, since we must
also be able to use such intuitions when arriving at the judgement that we
previously formed a false judgement.
2) If the intuition we form of the trace of a former judgement is not
itself intuited, it remains an obscure idea; otherwise it is clear. If we
go further, recognising that the intuition we now have is the intuition of
the trace of a judgement, and forming the judgement that we previously
formed that judgement, one may say that we recall the judgement. One
may surmise that the revival of a previously formed judgement will far
more often be obscure than clear, and it will attain clarity far more of-
ten than it becomes a definite recollection. Since the terms imagination,
memmy, fantasy are customarily used for our ability to intuit the traces
of ideas, permit me to extend the meanings of these terms to cover the 122
similar ability with respect to entire judgements. To this encl, we need
simply say that memory [Gedtichtnij3] in general is the soul's ability, un-
der certain circumstances, to intuit traces left behind by its own activity.
For similar reasons, we can extend the concept of the power of recollec-
tion [Erinnerungskraft] so that it also covers our judgements, and indeed
all the activities of the soul: it is the ability to form the judgement that
it has formerly performed some activity based upon the perception of a
trace of this activity in the soul.
81
 THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE§. 300.
3) The laws governing the revival of judgements appear to be the
same as those governing the revival of ideas. Activities which have been
performed simultaneously in t?e soul enter into such_ a connectio~ ~hat
the repetition of one of them (i.e., the performance of an equal activity)
provides the occasion for forming an intuition of the traces left behind by
the other.
4) When we recall a judgement we have previously formed, it may
happen that we still find it to be correct, in which case we repeat it in the
proper sense of the word; or we may no longer hold it to be correct, in
which case we do not repeat it. When repeating a judgement, the degree
of confidence may be greater or smaller than it was the first time. In
particular, the observation that we now judge as we formerly did may
123 cause us to form the judgement with greater confidence. And so on.
§.300.*
Mediation of a judgement by otherjudgements
1) We must now investigate the important question concerning the origin
of our judgements. It is obvious that not all judgements originate in the
same way. The judgement that the ratio between the diameter and the
circumference of a circle is irrational certainly comes about in a different
way than the judgement "I feel a pain just now", or a similar one.
2) An especially noteworthy kind of origin of judgements is that
whereby one or more other judgements cause or, if you like, mediate
a given one. I say that a judgement M is caused or mediated by cer-
tain others A, B, C, D, ... if the cause of us forming judgement M lies
in the fact that we have just formed the judgements A, B, C, D, .... The
judgement M in such cases is said to be caused, produced, mediated by
A,B,C,D, ... , which are said to cause, produce or mediate M. Often,
the action of the mind when it moves from judgements A, B, C, D, ... to
judgement Mis called an inference, and Mis called inferred, concluded
or derived, while the judgements A, B, C, D, ... are called the premises,
and frequently (though improperly) the grounds of M. The soul's abil-
ity to find the cause of its belief in the proposition M in its belief in the
propositions A,B,C,D, ... is called its power or faculty of inference.
Judgements which are not mediated, whatever their cause may otherwise
be, are called umnediated or immediate. To say truly that a judgement
124 M was mediated by judgements A,B,C,D, ... , it is not enough that
A, B, C, D, ... provided an occasion for the formation of the judgement
82
Of Judgements
M· rather, their presence must be the complete cause for the o~currence
!M In speakino-b of a complete cause I do not mean that
~ . .
nothmg other
. .
than the presence of A, B, C, D, ... , ~ot. even ~~n activity of the mmd, is
requi·i·ecl , but only that aside from the
. mdicated judgements
. A, B, .C, D,. ...
other judgement is necessary m order to bnng about M. If, for ex-
no1 le the judgement was formed that Caius is a scholar and it happens
anp, . . ,, t ·d
that later on the judgement "Scholars a~·e often vam. comes ~ mm , ~e
should not consider the latter to be medi~ted by the ~ormer. 1t is conceiv-
able that it was occasioned by that other judgement, 111.that the. con~ept of
a SC hol '·ir brouo-ht
b
about the associated concept of vamty and m this way•
finally led us to the judgement "Scholars are often .v~in"; but the cause of
our forming this judgement (why we have a suspi~10n t~~t scholars are
vain) lies in judgements and experiences of an entirely differe~t co~tent
than the judgement that Caius is one of the scholars. The latter is entirely
dispensable in this respect. If, by contrast, we express the j~1dg~ment.that
Caius is a man and then, immediately afterwards, that Cams is ~alhble,
one cannot say that the former is superfluous-even though on its own
it does not suffice to produce the second judgement, the judgement that
all men are fallible also being required to act along with it. Thus, if we
wish to speak precisely, we will not say that the single judgement that
Caius is a man mediates the judgement that he is fallible, but rather that
the combination of the two judgements that C. is a man and that all men 125
are fallible does.
3) From this and similar examples it becomes obvious that this rela-
tion of mediation does indeed hold between some of our judgements, and
hence that there are mediated judgements. It is equally certain that there
are also immediate judgements; for the existence of mediated judgements
can in the end be understood only because there are also immediate ones.
4) A judgement M which comes about through the mediation of A,B,
C,D, ... follows upon them in time, but in such a way that they ha~e
not altogether disappeared when it comes about. The correctness of this
claim is confirmed in part by the observations which each of us can make
with his own judgements, in part by the fact that between effect and cause
there must be some simultaneity.
5) If certain judgements A,B,C,D, ... have mediated a judgement
M on one occasion, it does not follow that M will always be mediated
by them, nor that the only way for us to form M is via the mediati~n
of A,B,C,D, .... Still less may it be claimed that the judgements via
which a certain other judgement M is mediated in us are necessary for
83
 THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE§. 300. Of Judgements

the mediation of M in every other thinking being. Thus I can form the fices to bring about the acceptance of M. It may seem as if the acceptanc.e
judgement that Caius is learned based upon the assurances of someone of M can come about only if, in addition to the acceptance of propos~­
who knows him better than I do, but also from the way he habitually tions A,B,C,D, ... the truth that Mis deducible from A,B,C,D, ... 1s
speaks, and so on. also recognised. I admit that this is often the case. For example, not
6) Clearly, we would be very happy to be in a position to know of everybody who accepts as true the propositions:
each of our judgements whether it was unmediated or not and, in the All Pare M
latter case, by means of which other judgements. But this is not so easy. Some S are not M
126 For not all of the judgements we actually form attain clarity, that is, not
will progress to the judgement: "Some S are not P"; perhaps th~s in-
all are intuited by us. Rather, most of them remain obscure, and we are
ference will be drawn only by those who remember the rule of mfer-
accordingly unable either to recall or become aware of them, and still less
ence called Baroco in the schools. But this is not always the case. We
to indicate verbally what they are. Nevertheless, they bring about many
sometimes advance immediately from the acceptance of certain propo-
effects in our mind, and in particular can mediate other judgements. It
sitions A,B,C,D, ... to the acceptance of a deducible proposition M,
quite often occurs that we have derived a judgement from certain others,
without first thinking of the truth that a proposition of form M is de-
and yet are unable to indicate the latter. Indeed, it may even seem that a
ducible from propositions A,B,C,D, ... or without even being aware
judgement is unmediated, while in fact it is not. Thus from the mere fact
that there is such a truth; I think that this can be proved, since other-
that we cannot tell by what judgements a given judgement was mediated,
wise not a single inference could be drawn, i.e., not a single judgement 128
we must not conclude that it was immediate; we can do this only if closer
could be based upon other judgements as its cause. For, if the truth of
observation shows that the given judgement is of such a nature that it can
proposition M cannot be immediately recognised fr~~ the _accepted truth
never be mediated, or mediated only if we are conscious of it.
of propositions A, B, C, D, ... , but instead recogmt10n of the truth that
7) In order to judge this matter, we must first find out what the dif-
from propositions A,B,C,D, ... a proposition like M can be deduced
ferent kinds of mediation are. I believe that a judgement M can only
is also required, then there are actually two insights which precede the
be mediated by others A,B,C,D, . .. if one of the following three cases
recognition of M, namely: "Every collection of ideas whose substitution
occurs: (a) All of the propositions A, B, C, D, ... are true and are the
for i,j, ... makes propositions A,B,C,D, ... true also makes proposi-
objective grounds of the proposition M (cf. §198) or (b) proposition M,
tion M true" and "Propositions A,B,C,D, . .. as they stand, are true" or
if it is not a consequence of A,B,C,D, ... must still be deducible from
"Ideas i,j, ... which originally occur in propositions A,B,C,D, ... are
them in the sense of § 155; or, finally, (c) proposition M, if not completely
a collection of ideas which make A,B,C,D, ... true." Is it not obvious
certain, nevertheless has a certain degree of probability on the basis of
that the way in which judgement M follows from these two judgements
A, B, C, D, . . . in the sense of § 161. In order to show the correctness of
is again only the recognition of a conclusion from its premises? Hence
this claim, I must first establish that each of the three cases occurs, and
if no conclusion can be recognised from the truth of its premises with-
127 then that there is no other kind of mediation of one judgement by others.
out first recognising the rule according to which this inference is formed,
8) Nobody can deny that judgements can originate in the way de-
then the two judgements just formed still do not suffice to produce recog-
scribed under (a) above, if he admits at all that truths can stand in the re-
nition of proposition M. This not only contradicts the just-mentioned
lation of ground and consequence to each other, and that men can some-
supposition, but also shows that it is altogether impossible ever to derive
times recognise this relation. For if the truths, A, B, C, D, ... are the
a judgement from other judgements in this way, since an infinite number
ground for truth M, how can the recognition of M become more certain
of judgements would be required. For, what I just said concerning the
and complete than by recognising that A, B, C, D, ... are its ground?
necessity of adding a third judgement to the two given judgements (so
9) But there are also cases which fall under (b); the acceptance of cer-
that the proposition which we want to derive is really derivable as a con-
tain propositions A,B,C,D, ... from which another proposition M follows
clusion) also holds when this third proposition is already added. Now a
with respect to certain ideas i, j, ... sometimes, though not always, suf-
fourth proposition is required which shows that the three indicated propo-

84 85
 THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE§. 300.
sitions really are related as premises to the (desired) conclusion and so on
ad infinitum.
10) Finally, it cannot be denied that sometimes judgements are gener-
ated in the third manner mentioned under no. 7: the acceptance of certain
129 propositions A,B,C,D, ... , which merely bestow probability upon an-
other proposition M, sometimes also leads to an acceptance of M. There
are many examples where the premises A,B,C,D, ... are accepted and
are present in our mind, and where the conclusion is not merely that M is
probable (this would be deducible from A, B, C, D, ... ), but where the
judgement M itself is formed. Thus we do not only say that it is proba-
ble that in the coming year the surface of the earth will be covered with
plants and flowers, since this has happened a great many times, but we
expect it, i.e., we form the judgement (with a greater or smaller degree of
confidence) that this will indeed happen.
11) We must now prove that these three ways are the only ways of
generating a judgement from other judgements. The most likely alterna-
tive is this: It might be argued that occasionally we proceed from certain
judgements A,B,C,D, . .. , which we have formed, to a new judgement
M merely because we think that it stands in one of the three indicated
relations to A, B, C, D, ... , while this is not actually the case. Do we
not often perform invalid inferences and hence deduce propositions from
others which are not in truth implied by them? My answer is this: oc-
casionally we take an incorrect rule of inference for correct and use it in
order to proceed from certain judgements A, B, C, D, ... to a new judge-
ment M, where Mis not actually implied by them; this cannot be denied.
Suppose that this advance to the new judgement M does not flow immedi-
ately from a consideration of propositions A, B, C, D, ... , but takes place
only because we have mistaken an incorrect rule of inference for a cor-
rect one, i.e., because we made the mistake of thinking that a proposition
like Mis deducible from propositions like A,B,C,D, ... alone. It fol-
lows that judgement M was not generated by A, B, C, D, ... alone, but
130 by them together with the tacitly assumed judgement that a proposition
like M can be deduced from propositions like A,B,C,D, .... In other
words, the judgement M comes about because we form the following
two judgements: "If propositions A, B, C,D, ... are true then proposition
M is also true" and "Propositions A, B, C, D, ... are true". But from
these two propositions, proposition M is not only apparently, but actu-
ally deducible; hence the way in which we here arrive at judgement M
is no exception to the claim of no. 7, but is there described as one of the
86
Of Judgements
ways of generating a judgement. In order to find a true exception, we
should have to claim that judgement M was immediately produced by a
consideration of judgements A, B, C, D, ... and that the fallacious rule of
inference was not tacitly assumed. But to bring this about, there would
have to be some kind of mechanism [Einrichtung] in our minds which
brings it about that from judgements of the forms A, B, C, D, ... , ajuclge-
rnent of the form M is generated although the latter does not stand to
the former in a relation of ground and consequence, nor declucibility, nor
even probability. But who can believe that such a mechanism is present
in our mind? Its existence should be claimed only if it could be shown
that certain judgements which we form with every care and precaution
nonetheless contradict other judgements which we have formed just as
cautiously. But nobody has been able to prove this. On the other hand,
if we wanted to assume without proof the existence of such an error-
producing mechanism in our mind merely because its impossibility has
not been established, then, for the same reason, we should not trust a sin-
gle one of our judgements, i.e., we should not form any judgements at all.
But this would be a contradiction, since it is a consequence of trusting
those judgements which determined that very decision.
12) Let me now adduce some examples of judgements which I take
to be immediate: I claim of the following two forms of judgement, not 131
that all judgements that fall under this form must be immediate, but that
some of them are. (a) One of these forms is I-have-the impression A; the
subject of all these judgements is the person who utters them (I) while
their predicate indicates the possession of an impression which is just
now present in that person, for example the presence of an idea, a just-
formed judgement, a present sensation, an act of will, etc. The other form
is this: This (what I just now observe)-is-an A; in this case the subject-
idea is an intuition which is just now present in the judging person, and
is subsumed by this person under a certain concept A; this is the case,
for example, when somebody says: This (what I just now observe) is
something reel, a pleasant fragrance, etc. It is indeed true that judgements
of this kind are sometimes the product of an inference, for example when
we infer from the perception of one of our own actions that we must have
had an idea of it, or when we judge of an intuition which we just now
have, that it is the effect of an external object of such and such a kind.
But it is impossible that all judgements of these two forms are mediated
judgements, since every mediated judgement of this kind presupposes
another one of the same kind. In order to infer from a present action of
87
 THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE§. 300.
mine that I must have had an idea which was necessary to perform this
action, I must first form the judgement: I have performed action A. And
if the judgement 'The intuition X is an A" is not to be immediate, then it
must be deduced from a pair of other judgements, namely, "The intuition
X is a B", and "All Bare A").
I wish to call all judgements which fall under one of these two forms
judgements of perception, provided that they were formed immediately;
it would be still more precise to call them immediate judgements of per-
ception. All mediated judgements, if they contain an intuition, can rea-
132 sonably be called judgements of experience in the narrower sense of this
word (§294).
13) It will become clear, upon some reflection, that there must be far
more immediate judgements than we have just described. In particular,
among purely conceptual judgements there must be some which are not
mediated. For, if the judgements described in no. 12 were the only im-
mediate judgements, then all the rest of our judgements would have to be
generated either immediately or mediately from them. But it is not con-
ceivable how this can be the case. Thus, from a proposition of the form "I
have intuition A" we can immediately draw the conclusion "There must
therefore be something actual which has caused this intuition in me"; but
the judgement "Every intuition which comes about either within me or
within any other finite being presupposes the existence of an actual ob-
ject which generates it" can neither be inferred from the given judgement
nor from any other kind of judgement mentioned under no. 12, nor from
a combination of them, either immediately or mediately.
14) I have already mentioned in no. 6 that when we derive a judge-
ment from other judgements we are often not conscious of the mode of
derivation. This may be the case because the necessary inferences, by
frequent repetition from early childhood, have become so familiar that
we carry them out with a speed too rapid for our intuitive faculty. But
whatever the reason, these judgements must be distinguished from those
which are derived consciously, often with great effort. Since the former
are mostly looked upon as immediate precisely because the way they orig-
inated is unknown, I will, for want of a better word, allow myself to call
l33 them immediate in the bmader or improper sense of the word in cases
where no misunderstanding is to be feared. The judgements mentioned
in no. 12 shall be called immediate in the primmy, genuine, or strict sense.
To give an example: I do not think that we recognise immediately the ex-
istence of even a single (external) object, much less any of its properties
88
Of Judgements
or changes, e.g., if it is in motion just now. For example, the judgement
that there is a bird flying over there I take to be inferred. But since we are
not generally conscious of the premises upon which it rests, we tend to
take it for an immediate perception and claim, for this reason, that we do
not infer the flight of this bird, but see it immediately. I admit that there
is a great difference between the manner in which we recognise the flight
of this bird and, for example, the motion of the hour hand on a pocket
watch. We recognise the latter when we realise that this hand is now in
a different position than when we saw it a short time ago, i.e., we are
conscious of the reasons from which we inferred its motion. To express
this distinction, we say that we did not see the motion of the hand imme-
diately but inferred it. Although these expressions are not exact, we can
still use them provided that no misunderstanding can arise from them or
we can use them with explanatory comments to avoid misunderstanding.
Note 1. The concept of an immediate judgement introduced in no. 2 is
encountered frequently enough elsewhere, only it is not always given an
appropriate definition, is sometimes confused with the related concept of
a basic truth, and is often applied to propositions which are actually medi-
ated. Thus the judgements TETENS (Phil. Vers., Vol. 1, p. 491) calls "fun-
damental judgements about our sensations" are nothing other than pure,
immediate judgements of perception, although he somewhat imprecisely
defines them as "judgements about the actual, immediate objects of con- 134
sciousness, which constitute the cognition of immediate consciousness."
He cites as examples the judgements "I hear, I see, I feel a pain, I think, I
represent something," etc.-which are actually all immediate judgements
of perception. The claim that these judgements are just as necessary as
the axioms of geometry (by which he presumably means that error is
just as impossible with them as with the axioms of geometry, and that the
other judgements are deduced from them) applies to all judgements of this
kind. STIEDENROTH (Theorie des Wissens, Gott., 1819), when he speaks
of given judgements, seems to mean immediate judgements. He says (p.
144): "Given judgements may not be judgements of reasoning, but must
be merely judgements of consciousness, i.e., they may not stem from re-
flection, but must originate immediately, following complete perception,
without our assistance, and with necessity." But when he adduces as an
example (p. 145) "the judgement of the moral worth of an action" one
begins to distrust his definition. For judgements about the moral worth
of an action are certainly mediated, even though we are seldom aware
of precisely which premises we have derived them from. I am happy to
89
 THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE§. 300.
admit that the distinction introduced in no. 12 between the expressions
judgements of perception and judgements of experience is somewhat ar-
bitrary. For it presupposes that by perception one understands a change
in the mind which gives rise to the kind of judgement of perception de-
scribed above, and that by experience one means a change which gives
rise to a so-called judgement of experience, while ordinary usage makes
no such distinction and treats the expressions as practically equivalent. I
note in passing that KANT thought a distinction similar to this one to be
necessary for the aims of science.
Note 2. The claim made in no. 9 that we at least sometimes pass im-
mediately from a recognition of the truth of certain propositions A, B, C,
D, . .. to the recognition of another truth M which is deducible from them,
without first recalling that a proposition of the form M is deducible from
propositions of the forms A, B, C, D, ... and indeed without even knowing
135 that this is so, may be disputed by those logicians who will not admit that
there are any immediate inferences. For they claim that the rule accord-
ing to which the conclusion is deduced from the premises, if not expressly
adduced, must nevertheless be tacitly thought. They will claim that in all
of our inferences, we never deduce the conclusion from the premises with
full confidence unless we recognise the correctness of the rule of infer-
ence. And in fact if this recognition only means that we do not consider
the rule of inference to be incorrect when someone presents it to us, then
what is said here is certainly true, but it does not conflict with the claim
I made above. What I cannot admit is that the rule spoken of here must
be thought at least tacitly. For if this claim were strictly adhered to, we
would require an infinite number of premises for every conclusion.
Note 3. The claim (no. 11) that every kind of inference which we
have adopted instinctively and without the benefit of reflection must be
correct may well not be generally accepted. For a great many scholars
believe that all of our knowledge falls short of objective truth, or at least
that it cannot be proven to be objectively true. Thus they will be unwilling
to grant the objective truth of the rules of inference we use in deducing
certain judgements form others. Others may allow that human inferential
faculties follow correct rules for those in good health, but wonder whether
this is also the case for the deranged, insane, or idiotic. Also somewhat
pertinent here is KANT' s theory of the antinomies of pure reason in their
speculative use as well as HERBART' s claim (Lehrb. z. Einl. in d. Phil.,
§6 and elsewhere) "that conceiving the world and ourselves" introduces
distinct concepts "which render the sought unification of our thought ever
90
UJ Ju(/gements
1
nore d t·t'fi cu lt , the more distinct they are made, and instead create discord
.
. natter they are able to influence." I know no other answer to this
1·n every I ' . . . . . . ..
11
what I have already said 111 thts section. The contradictions some 136
tha_ to have observed are in my opinion merely apparent.
claim ' ·
§.301.*
The generation ofjudgements by the relation of probability
l) The previous section acquainted us with three differen~ ways in which
'udgements may be produced through the mediation of others. .~h~re
~s nothing unusual about the first and secon~ o~ these, but th~ ~~~r~ 111-
volves difficulties that cannot be passed over 111 silence. :"hen it ts asked,
w it occurs that the consideration of certam truths A, B, C,
name ly, ho · b
D .... which contain the objective ground of another, M, can bn.ng. a out
the recognition of the latter as well; or how we pass from certa111 JUdge-
n1en ts. A , B , c , D , · · · to 'another ' M ' which is deducible from them, the .
r is that these are the effects of our personal measure of cognz-
easy a ,nswe . 1
tive ability. For if we ascribe infinite cognitive powers to a bemg we a so
must think of it as omniscient, i.e., in possession of the knowledge of all
truths, and consequently cognisant of all relations of ground-consequence
and deducibility; thus is it quite understandable that we humans, who
have at least a finite portion of these cognitive abilities, are abl~ to recog-
. . if not all at least some easier cases of these relations. Thmgs stand
mse, , h' h
somewhat differently when certain judgements A,B,C,D, . · · , w ic
merely stand in a relation of probability to a pro~osition ~' lead us not
to form the judgement that M is probable, but to form M itsel.f. Here we
simply cannot say that this is an effect of our cogr~itive !ac~tltze~. For t~e
proposition Mis not in fact always a truth, and a be1~g wt.th 111fi111te cogm-
tive powers would not judge as we do. It would certa111ly judge that M ~as
probable, but it would not form the judgement M itself. Thus the quest10n 137
remains: how do we come to make this judgement? It won't do to assu.me
a special simple faculty which leads us to such judgement_s; otherw1.se,
we should have to say that the most perfect being lacks a faculty wluch
we have. Rather, we must explain the origin of such judgements as a phe-
nomenon which rests upon the limitation of our powers, and which could
be brought about by a combination of several of the~. Th~ ~ase ~ould
be similar to the faculty of desire which, in finite bemgs, d1V1des ~nto a
faculty of wishing and of willing, the former of whi~h is not found m the
infinite being, since it results from a mere imperfection, namely, from the
91
 THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE§. 302.
limitation of our own well-being; so also with the faculty of judgement;
in finite beings this faculty sometimes leads to a combination of ideas
resulting not in certain, but merely in probable propositions. And just
as wishing can be considered an imperfect willing, so too the confidence
with which a finite being forms a judgement based on a merely proba-
ble proposition is imperfect compared with the confidence with which it
states something that is completely certain.
2) So much, in my view, may one claim, without deciding anything
further about the particular way in which this happens, which may turn
out to be very difficult to work out. If I were to hazard a guess, however,
I would say that the origin of such judgements stems from a particular
limitation of ours, due to which we can only maintain a certain number
of ideas in the mind at one time. Because of this, in the case of somewhat
complex ideas and judgements, we allow some of their constituents-
those which draw less attention to themselves-to drop out of conscious-
ness. Now with judgements expressing the probability of a proposition
138 M-provided that this probability is so high that we must guide our ac-
tion by M-the proposition itself is by far the most important thing, while
the fact that it is not decidedly true but only probable is not nearly as im-
portant. Now if we are unable to keep in our mind all of the parts of
M as well as the thought that this proposition is not completely certain,
but merely so highly probable that we have to act upon it, then it seems
natural that we omit the latter thought, since it is the less important, and
concentrate our attention merely upon proposition M itself in order to
grasp it completely and retain it. In this way it happens that the judge-
ment which attributes only a certain degree of probability to proposition
M gradually disappears from our clear consciousness (if it ever attained
such a position), and judgement M alone remains.
§.302.
How we come by our immediate judgements
Although no one can expect a treatise of logic to describe the way in
which every one of our judgements originates, it is desirable that enough
be said on this score as is necessary to understand the possibility of pro-
ducing the diverse kinds of judgements to be met with in our conscious-
ness. I will attempt to do this to a certain extent in the following two
sections. From §300 we already know that some of our judgements arise
immediately, while others do not. With respect to the former, little can
92
Of Judgements
be said, precisely because they are not produced through the mediation of
thers. These can be either intuitional or conceptual judgements 139
0
I) The two most important kinds of immediate intuitional judgement
were already introduced in §300, no. 12. The first of these, "l-have-
impression X", presupposes for its occurrence only the following two
things: the judging person must (a) have the capacity to undergo a change
of the same type as impression X and (b) must raise this impression to the
level of clarity. If the cognising being considers a present impression A
(idea, sensation, etc.), then it is also in a position to form the judgement
that it has such an impression. The origin of judgements of the form
"This (what I just now perceive) is an A" is much more difficult to ex-
plain, especially if idea A (as I think is possible) is not simple, but highly
complex (cf. §286, no. 8). The soul will hardly form such judgements the
first time it has an intuition of the kind A. But if (through the influence
of various circumstances) the changes which are necessary to produce a
certain intuition which stands under the concept A occur repeatedly and
in a suitably short span of time, then there is nothing incomprehensible
in the supposition that the soul, directing its entire attention upon these
changes, will eventually be in a position to form more and more precise
ideas of their peculiar attributes; especially if changes take place in be-
tween which follow an entirely different law, because the contrast will
facilitate the comprehension of the changes in question. I do not consider
it difficult to conceive that the mind gradually forms a concept of these
specific attributes, even if they must be compounded from several parts.
For the compounding of a concept from several fitting parts is a capacity
which we must attribute to the mind, since we are in the possession of
concepts of that sort. All this can be much more easily comprehended if
we presuppose that in doing this the mind does not form the judgement
that it does it, but that it performs these operations without being clearly 140
conscious of them.
2) If a judgement which we form without deriving it from other judge-
ments is a purely conceptual judgement, the occasion for forming it may
be provided by certain other judgements we have previously formed.
Through them or through the action of some outer objects, it may happen
that the concepts required for our judgement are produced in the soul; but
the complete ground of why we form precisely this judgement-why we
judge, for example, that every object represented by a certain concept A
has an attribute represented by concept b-does not lie in these circum-
stances alone. Rather, part of the ground for forming this judgement must
93
 THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE§. 303.
lie in the specific attributes of the two concepts A and b themselves. For
if this were not so, we might just as well think it necessary to separate
A and b, rather than to combine them in the judgement "A has b". But
as the reason why we combine these concepts does not lie in any previ-
ous judgements we have made-otherwise, it would not be an immediate
judgement-it is obvious that in order to explain the appearance of such
a judgement in our mind, we may, in addition to what has already been
said, add no more than this: it occurs because the concepts we represent
by A and b are precisely those we actually represent.
§.303.*
How we arrive at, or could arrive at, our
most general judgements of experience
In contrast to immediate judgements, the origin of mediated judgements
can be more precisely explained. In order not to become too prolix, I want
to describe only a single class of such judgements, namely, the judge-
ments of experience that we usually take to be immediate, since we are
141 rarely conscious of the inferences which mediate them. It must be noted
that it is not sufficient to indicate the modes of inference we use in or-
der to form these judgements (this has already been discussed in another
place), rather, we must discuss these inferences themselves, i.e., we must
indicate the most important propositions of which they are composed. Fi-
nally, I do not merely want to describe how these judgements are actually
formed, but rather how they could and should be formed if a rational man
wanted to justify them.
1) The greatest difficulty arises precisely where I think we must make
the start, namely, when we have to explain how we form those judge-
ments in which we determine temporal relations which hold between cer-
tain phenomena that take place within ourselves, e.g., with the judgement
"Idea A precedes idea B within me", etc. It seems to me that judgements
of this kind should not be considered immediate. We do not immediately
perceive in our ideas, sensations, etc., which of them are earlier, which
later, etc.; rather, we must infer this from the observation of certain of
their properties or from other circumstances. But it is even more obvi-
ous that the temporal relations between mental changes are not always
inferred from the perception of temporal relations among certain external
changes. It is true that we occasionally determine the temporal order in
which ideas and sensations follow each other in our mind by reference to
94
Of .Judgements
the observed temporal order of certain external objects; but this can not
always be the case; rather, the temporal order of external changes is, as a
rule, inferred from temporal sequences that take place within ourselves.
It would be impossible for us to know what is earlier or later in the ex-
ternal world if we did not know beforehand what is earlier or later within 142
ourselves. It is indeed possible that I am unable to say which of two ob-
jects, this chapel or that house, I have known longer, until I am told that
the former was erected a few years after the latter; but generally things
are reversed: only by perceiving internal temporal sequences can I recog-
nise the temporal order of phenomena in the external world. From this
it follows that if we want to explain the recognition of internal temporal
sequences, we cannot have recourse to our recognition of spatial rela-
tions. The locations of things are no more than those determinations we
must assume them to have so that we can explain why they act upon each
other in just such and such temporal relations (given the forces which we
recognise in them). It is obvious, therefore, that we can recognise spatial
relations only after we have first recognised certain temporal relations.
This is not contradicted by the fact that we use space (certain movements
in it) in order to measure time, since closer consideration shows that the
question whether a change in space took place at a certain time can in the
encl only be decided by reference to relations of simultaneity, which is an
easily recognisable temporal relation. It follows from all this that tem-
poral relations between individual mental phenomena (especially ideas,
sensations, etc.) can at least sometimes be determined from their inner
characteristics. The question is, how is this clone? I think that it must
be possible for us to recognise immediately that a given idea, sensation,
or appearance is at this moment present in ourselves. For, if we cannot
even recognise this immediately, then it is inconceivable how we could
bring it out by inferences. For it is clear that no moment in time can be
determined through concepts alone unless one such moment is given. But 143
there is no reason whatever to consider a future or past moment as given
rather than the present moment. But a moment is given by characterising
it as that moment at which a certain internal phenomenon takes place.
Thus it must at least sometimes be possible to recognise immediately that
an idea or sensation is now occurring in us. Without doubt this will be
possible only with those mental phenomena which have been raised to
the level of clarity (§280).
2) Furthermore, it must sometimes be possible for us to recognise
immediately that a certain idea or judgement which we form contains as
95
 THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE§. 303.
parts certain other ideas A, B, C, D .... But if this is the case, then we
can cone! ude that these several ideas A, B, C, D, . . . are in our mind at
the same time. Thus here is a method with which we can recognise the
simultaneity of certain ideas; it is evident that similar considerations also
hold of judgements, sensations, and other phenomena within ourselves, if
they appear as parts of a whole which can come about only through their
interaction (hence their simultaneous presence).
3) It is also certain that we can often recognise the inconsistency
of saying that two phenomena A and B are simultaneously in our mind.
Sometimes we can see this immediately, sometimes for reasons quite in-
dependent from the present investigation. Thus it would be an obvious
contradiction to say that a judgement A as well as its actual contradictory,
the judgement "A is false", are formed simultaneously. Hence, if we are
forced to admit the presence of certain contradictory phenomena in our-
144 selves, we conclude that they could occur only at different times. Here
then is a means by which we recognise that certain phenomena within
ourselves are not simultaneous, but take place at different times.
4) Finally, if we recognise that a phenomenon A is just now present,
then we know that its contradictory, B, which we also find in us, must
have taken place in the past. For example, if we recognise that we just
now formed the judgement Neg.A, then we know that the judgement A, if
we have also formed it, must have been formed in the past. In this way
we can determine the relation of priority between one time and another.
5) It is likely that there are other such methods. There are several
phenomena in ourselves of which we can be certain that one of them
must be earlier or later than the other. For example, a wish must be in
our mind earlier than the sensation of its fulfilment. Also, the individual
ideas whose combination results in another idea must be earlier than the
latter, etc. Now if we recognise by the criterion given in no. 2 that a cer-
tain mental phenomenon occmTed at the same time as a wish, and another
simultaneous with the feeling of its fulfilment, then we can form a judge-
ment about the temporal relation between these two other phenomena.
6) If an internal phenomenon A is a part of several phenomena M,
N, 0, ... , or if we realise in some other way that it was simultaneous
with each of them, and if we also know that phenomena M, N, 0, ...
contradict one another in some respect and hence cannot have been in the
mind at the same time, or if we conclude this for some other reason, then
we discover that phenomenon A must have been in the mind at different
145 times, hence either continuously over a span of time, or repeatedly.
96
Of Judgements
7) The same also holds when phenomenon A is composed of several
individual phenomena, e.g., ideas, sensations, etc. Consequently we can
recognise that several ideas (or phenomena) A, A', A", ... have repeatedly
occurred together. In this way I become aware of the fact that I repeatedly
had the idea of certain colours (namely, the colours of roses) and the
sensation of a certain odour (the odour of a rose) at one and the same
time.
8) Now we already know several ways in which we can form judge-
ments stating that a certain mental idea or phenomenon belongs to an
earlier time. But there are several other ways. For example we can con-
clude, at least with probability, that a certain idea must have been present
in our mind earlier, perhaps even several times, if we can generate it more
easily and with less attention than is usually the case with ideas of a sim-
ilar composition, etc. In particular with respect to judgements we can
surmise that the judgement "A is B" must have been formed once before,
if it appears in our consciousness and we are unable to indicate the rea-
son why we have formed it, provided it does not belong to the class of
judgements that are recognised immediately. Thus I can conclude, justi-
fiably, that I have formed the judgement: Vi 1.414 ... once before if it
appears within me without calculation.
9) In order to generate a certain sum of ideas, judgements, or whatever
other internal phenomena, a certain length of time is required; in order to
form the same sum of ideas or judgements a second time, we need about
the same time or somewhat less. The same holds if these phenomena 146
form a certain series, i.e., if there is a certain order in which they follow
each other, as, for example, the ideas 1, 2, 3, 4, etc., when we count. Now
let a, b, c, d, e, ... , y, z be such a series of phenomena in our mind; let A
be a certain other mental phenomenon which is simultaneous with a, and
let B be a phenomenon simultaneous with z. In this case we know that
the two phenomena A and B are separated by the span of time which is
required to generate all of the ideas b, c, ... , y. If we repeat the series
after having once run through it, in such a way that after the final idea z
the idea a comes about for the second time and if phenomenon C occurs
in the mind as soon as we reach z for the second time, then we know that
phenomena A and C are about twice as far apart as A and B, etc. Here
we have a method of estimating the relation between different lengths of
time. We actually use this device if we count in order to measure the time
lapses between phenomena A, B, C, D, ....
97
 THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE§. 303.
10) If we have a present intuition A, then we must recognise immedi-
ately whether it belongs to the class of external or internal intuitions (cf.
§286), i.e., whether or not the change in our mind, which we presently
observe, must be thought of as the result of the influence of a certain ex-
ternal object. In this way we find out that there are also external objects
that have the power to produce intuitions in us.
l l) If we have certain similar intuitions, i.e., if they all stand under the
same concepts (we must at least sometimes be able to recognise this im-
mediately, cf. §300, no. 12), we conclude from this, if not with certainty
then at least with probability, that the objects which caused them will also
147 be similar. This inference is not certain, since dissimilar causes can some-
times have similar effects. Thus an intuition of yellow can sometimes be
caused by the influence of a yellow object upon our eye, but sometimes by
the humours of the eye itself, if they are coloured in an unnatural way, etc.
But so long as no extraordinary circumstances obtain, it is more probable
that similar effects proceed from similar causes.
12) If it happens repeatedly that we experience simultaneously certain
intuitions which stand under the concepts A, B, C, D, ... , and we rarely,
if ever, experience one of them without the other, then we conclude with
a good deal of probability that it is one and the same actual object which
causes these intuitions in us. We may therefore attribute several powers
to it, namely, the power to generate intuition A, to generate intuition B,
etc. This method of inference allows us to discover, by and by, the dif-
ferent powers which surrounding objects have. For example, if we have
repeatedly experienced a red colour together with a certain very pleasant
fragrance, we conclude that it is one and the same object which caused
both of these intuitions in us or, what comes to the same thing, that the
rose has a fragrance.
13) But now we must explain why the object whose presence we have
just assumed does not always cause the indicated intuitions A, B, C, D, . ..
in us. This can be explained in only one of three ways, namely, either this
object changes from time to time, or there are certain other objects whose
interference prevents this influence, or the spatial relations between this
object and ourselves change.
14) When we experience that in many cases some things happen after
we have previously willed them, we conclude that our will is the cause
148 of their occurrence and that we have the power to bring about results of
this kind. In this way we find out about several powers that reside within
ourselves. In particular, we realise that under certain circumstances we
98
Of Judgements
have the power arbitrarily to produce within us intuitions of certain ob-
jects, and to remove these intuitions. For example, if we have a rose in
our hands, we can produce the sensation of its fragrance in ourselves,
and we can also remove that sensation. According to no. 13, this pre-
supposes that a change takes place either in these objects themselves, or
in the spatial relations between them and ourselves, or in one of the sur-
rounding objects; thus we discover that we have the power to produce, at
will, a great many changes in the external objects surrounding us, or in
the spatial relations between them and ourselves.
15) This imposition of our will upon external objects, which we ex-
perience in this way, is not always immediate; often external objects are
influenced by changes which we bring about in others. But there must
always be some external object upon which we act immediately. The to-
tality of these is called the mental organ [Seelen01gan], and if we acid to it
everything that stands to it in an organic connection it is called our body.
We will soon see in what way we gather more and more information con-
cerning the existence and attributes of this body.
16) If certain intuitions M, N, 0, ... (i.e., intuitions which stand un-
der the concepts M,N, 0, ... ) never occur unless certain other intu-
itions A, B, C, D, ... preceded them in time, we conclude that things or
changes which were necessary to bring about intuitions A,B,C,D, ...
are a condition for the occurrence of those things or changes belonging
to intuitions M, N, 0, ..... If intuitions M, N, 0, ... always follow as L49
soon as intuitions A, B, C, D, ... have taken place, we conclude that the
things or changes which bring about intuitions A, B, C, D, ... contain a
sufficient ground or complete cause for the occurrence of those things or
changes that bring about intuitions M,N, 0, ..... Conversely, if intuitions
M,N, 0, ... never occur without A,B,C,D, . .. but the latter sometimes
occur without the former, we realise that the particular changes which
bring about A, B, C, D, ... are not the complete ground, but a mere condi-
tion for the things or changes which bring about intuitions M,N, 0, .....
In this way we can judge the means or conditions which lead to the origin
of many objects.
17) If certain phenomena M, N, 0, ... which I want to bring about
in my mind do not always occur, but only after I have succeeded in first
producing A,B,C,D, ... , I conclude that my mind cannot immediately
bring about the changes leading to the phenomena M, N, 0, ... , but only
through mediation of those changes which lead to phenomena A,B,C,
D, ... , hence only after the latter are actualised. Thus I want to expe-
99
 THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE§. 303.
rience the taste of an apple. I bring this about only after first producing
all those intuitions which follow upon looking at the apple, bringing it
to my mouth, etc.; therefore I conclude that the appearance of that taste
within me did not come about immediately but only by mediation. On
the other hand, if there are certain phenomena M, N, 0, ... , in my mind
that always, or almost always, come about when I wish, I conclude that
150 the objects which are necessary for their production can be immediately
influenced by my mind or are intimately connected with those that are so
influenced. I therefore count them as part of my own body.
18) I have intuitions of colours; I cannot arbitrarily create them but
I can arbitrarily remove them (namely, by shutting my eyes). I conclude
from this that these intuitions do not arise within me immediately, but
only through the mediation of an object which depends upon my will,
i.e., a part of my body. This part I call my eyes. In a similar way I find
out that I have organs through which I receive fragrances, intuitions of
taste, intuitions of sounds, etc.
19) By the well-known laws of association of ideas, the sight of a rose
in front of me awakens within me the memory of that pleasant fragrance
which I have repeatedly experienced along with the sight of a rose; occa-
sionally, there is also a desire to repeat this sensation. But this desire is
not satisfied until I have picked the rose (perhaps for no particular reason)
and moved it to my nose. During this activity I see the changes which take
place with my hand, i.e., several intuitions arise within me for whose ex-
planation I must assume certain changes that take place in that part of
my body. Since this change resulted in the satisfaction of that desire (to
smell the rose), I conclude that that part of my body which brought about
the various different intuitions was through its change (motion) also the
cause (partial cause) of the satisfaction which followed. In this fashion I
learn more and more about the services which can be performed by my
hands and the other members of my body.
20) I daily experience pleasant and unpleasant sensations occurring
151 simultaneously with changing appearances of this or that part of my body,
and which can become more vivid or more faint depending upon certain
influences that are exercised upon this part. From this I conclude that the
cause of these sensations lies in a change of these parts. Thus I can have a
strong toothache without knowing which tooth contains the cause of this
pain, until I find out that there is a change in the pain when one of my
teeth is touched.
100
Of Judgements
21) All these cognitions become much more determinate when we
begin to assess the spatial relations in which external objects stand to
ourselves and to each other. I imagine that this happens in the following
way, or could happen in the following way if we proceeded in a par-
ticularly strict manner. Some of my intuitions refer to external objects.
Whenever these intuitions change, I must assume that the cause of this
change is either a change within myself, or in some of the external ob-
jects; the latter can be a change either in their spatial relations to me or
in their inner attributes, or (what is probably more cmTect) in all of these
things at once, only in varying degrees. Since my intuitions which refer
to an external object are changes within me brought about by the influ-
ence of an external object, the character of these intuitions is determined
by my attributes, the attributes of the external object, and the spatial re-
lation between us. Without a change in one of these three parts there
can be no change in those intuitions. But if one of these things changes,
then, because of the interaction between all things in the world, all other
things change as well, except that the change in one or the other can be
so insignificant that we can neglect it. Now, according to no. 11, if the
same collection of intuitions A, B, C, D, ... occurs within me repeatedly,
I conclude that it is one and the same object which brings them about. I
do not know, so far, what happened to the object in the interim, when I 152
did not have intuitions A, B, C, D, ... , whether it was changed, or perhaps
destroyed, and only regenerated at the moment when these intuitions re-
curred, or whether the disappearance and reappearance of its intuitions
stemmed merely from a change in its spatial relation to me. If I now un-
dertake several actions through which we can usually ensure that a certain
sum of intuitions A,B,C,D, ... disappears without returning, i.e., diverse
activities through which objects are usually changed, but find that no such
change occurs in this case, then I surmise that the disappearance and reap-
pearance was not caused by a change in the object in question, but only
by a change in its spatial disposition relative to me, or by the interference
of another object. In this case I must ascribe to the object a certain power
to remain in a given condition (a certain connection of its parts), i.e., a
certain solidity. For example, if I grasp a piece of wood with my hands
and touch it in various ways, then the same intuitions recur from time to
time (as often as this body is brought into the same position between my
fingers); on the other hand, in the case of a soft or liquid body the sensa-
tions which it causes change constantly, and earlier ones do not recur. (In
101
 THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE§. 303.
a similar way we convince ourselves that our hands themselves, or rather
their parts, are solid bodies of this kind.)
22) Assume that two sums of intuitions A,B,C,D, ... and M, N, O,
P, ... are given, where the first is taken as the effect of body X, the second
as the effect of body Y. If these sums occur either simultaneously or in
quick succession, either A,B,C,D, ... after M,N,O,P, ... or vice versa,
then I surmise that the locations of these two bodies are very close to-
gether, or that the bodies touch each other. This conclusion is not certain;
for example, two stars which are always seen simultaneously can still be
153 very far apart. But so long as there is no circumstance which indicates
an exception, this assumption is probable, especially if the bodies do not
only appear to the eye, but also to the other senses, i.e., touch, hearing,
smell, etc., at almost the same time.
23) If a certain appearance which I ascribe to the influence of an ex-
ternal object becomes either stronger or weaker from moment to moment,
then I may surmise in the first case that this object approaches or, in the
second, that it recedes.
24) Assume bodies, M, N, 0, P, Q, ... and A are all found to be solid.
Furthermore body A has been found to have two different parts a and u.,
and now it is realised that at a given time a touches M and u. touches N,
at a later time a touches N and u. touches 0, then, later, a touches 0, and
u. touches P, etc. I conclude that the distances between things M and N,
N and 0, 0 and P, etc., are approximately equal to the distance between
parts a and u.. The body A which I use for this purpose can, for example,
be my own hand and parts a and u. can be two specially chosen parts of it
(as for example the thumb and the little finger).
25) If a body A moves from the vicinity of M into the vicinity of N
and from there into the vicinity of 0, etc., and the distances MN and NO
are equal to each other and the times which pass are also equal, then I
know that bodies A and M,N, 0, move uniformly relative to each other.
26) Assume that a body B has so far not changed its relation to cer-
tain other bodies M,N,O,P, ... (among which there is my own body).
Assume furthermore that another body A changed this relation and even-
tually came into contact with B: when this happened, the relation between
Band those other bodies M,N, 0, ... also changed. I then conclude with
154 probability that the contact between the moving body A and B (i.e., the
impact) was the cause of the ensuing motion of B. In this way I discover
that the members of my own body, for example my hands, can produce
motion by impact.
102
Of Judgenients
27) I frequently notice that a body, as long as it is found to be in
contact or connection with a certain other body, for example with my
hand (i.e., if it is cmTied or held by it), does not change its spatial relation
to me; I also experience a certain effort on this occasion which becomes
more unpleasant the longer it lasts. I therefore conclude that this effort
caused the body to remain in its position; from this it follows that it must
have a certain propensity to change its location. In this way I discover
that certain bodies attract or repel each other, and hence the general law
of gravity.
28) Occasionally I notice that a certain body A (for example a ball)
can touch another body B (for example a horizontal board), in a variety of
different ways, although the latter stays at rest, and although the parts with
which both bodies touch, at least in the case of B, change constantly. I
furthermore find out that it takes about the same expenditure of effort and
time to move body A from its initial position on B to any other position so
long as they are equidistant. Now if body A is at rest and I give it a push
with another body, for example my hand, in such a way that in the ensuing
motion it continues to be in contact with B (is not propelled above B), then
I can conclude that this motion, being caused by the impact alone, lies in a
plane. Through my eye I can also comprehend the line which is described
by A. And if I now find that a similar line is described no matter where
the motion begins and what direction it takes, it follows that the surface
of body B, upon which all of these motions take place, can only be one 155
of two things, either the surface of a sphere, or a plane; and the lines can
either be segments of circles or straight lines. But my eye gives me a
simple means to distinguish a straight line from any other line (actually,
in this context, a line is a series of small bodies which are distinguished
by their colour; and the eye can distinguish straight series of this kind
from curved ones). The former has the property that, no matter from
what vantage point it is observed, it generates upon the retina a picture
which coincides with a piece of that line generated at a different distance.
Thus the ideas which are produced by a whole line, and the ideas which
are produced by a piece of it (after the distance has been changed), must
be equal to each other. Every line in which I ascertain this property, I
recognise as straight. But if I have once seen several straight lines, I
become familiar with the peculiarity of this phenomenon so that I can tell
by sight whether a line should be reckoned among the straight ones or
the curved ones. In this way I find in the above case that the lines are
straight and that the smi'ace of body B is a plane. Soon I learn from the
103
 THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE§. 303.
mere illumination of a surface whether it is plane or curved. But once I
can distinguish straight and curved things, I acquire the ability to measure
distances; for if lines nm, no are straight, and are juxtaposed in such a way
that mo is also straight, then the distance mo is the sum of the distances mn
and no. Finally, since all spatial relations can be determined by distances,
it follows that if I can estimate distances, there are no relations in space
which I cannot determine.
29) But it should not be imagined that the just-indicated method of
estimating distances is the only possible one, and that the sense of sight
156 is indispensable for this matter. Even if we lack sight, we can determine
these relations, albeit with more effort. We have shown in no. 21 how
the sense of touch alone can tell us whether or not a given body is solid.
Through the sense of touch we also find that there are bodies whose con-
nected parts resist complete separation and destruction, though the parts
change their spatial relations to each other in many ways and, in particu-
lar, can be brought closer together. Such a body we tend to call flexible.
We now grasp parts of this body that ai·e not in immediate connection
with each other (perhaps with both hands) and try to move one of them
in a direction which it resists; we now know that the distance between
these two parts is the largest there can be, unless the connection between
them is severed. Now if the individual parts of this body are small, so that
they can be easily grasped, while the whole body is much lai·ger (longer),
then the position in which we have now brought it represents a straight
line (actually a thread), and by touching it we can learn how such a line is
represented by the sense of touch. Consider some other body which of-
fers the same sensations, no matter where we touch it; we must conclude
that its surface is either plane or cylindrical or spherical. Which of the
three is the case can be decided in various ways. For example, if we also
have a body that can be moulded into different shapes and retains them,
then we can make an imprint of the surface in question upon this material,
and if the surface which is generated by the impression is like the given
surface (i.e., if it produces the same sensations when touched), then it is
flat, in the other case it is either cylindrical or spherical, the former if we
encounter different tactile sensations in different parts, the latter if this
is not the case. If two plane surfaces of a body meet (an example is the
edge of a prism), then the parts of the solid where this occurs (where a
157 new sensation starts) form a straight line, and by a frequent and attentive
touching of such a solid, we can learn how the peculiar properties of such
straight lines are manifested to touch, etc.
104
Of Judgements
30) Once we have become acquainted with several solids that have a
fairly permanent shape and size, it will become easier every day to gauge
the shape, magnitude, and distance of other bodies, especially if we can
ernploy the sense of sight; in doing so we should particularly employ the
following rules: (a) every body that is kept out of sight by another body
rnust be farther away than the covering body; (b) every body that does
not change its magnitude must be the farther away from us the smaller
the angle of sight under which it appears (the angle of sight is measured
by comparing the body in question with another body that changes neither
distance nor size); (c) every body that does not change either its size or
shape must be the farther away the more obscure it appears to us and the
less we are able to distinguish its parts, all other things remaining equal,
etc.
31) It could be asked how a child or even animals aITive at a knowl-
edge of all these relations in space, since it is quite obvious that they do
not perform the inferences which I have here described. My reply is that
the grasp of spatial relations which we find in children and animals can
be explained with no more than the well known law of the association
of ideas, or the expectation of similar cases under similar circumstances
which issues from it, especially if we assume that instinct has certain ef-
fects. We say that an animal has a grasp of relations in space if we notice
that it avoids a stone lying in its path, or if it wants to acquire a food
object and turns either to the left or to the right depending whether the
object actually is at the left or the right. But all this can be explained
satisfactorily from the mere association of ideas; it avoids the stone be- 158
cause several times when it had an intuition of the kind that it now has
of this stone, its running was impeded; it turns right in order to snatch its
prey since earlier on, when it had these kinds of intuitions, it also had to
turn right in order to grasp it, etc. A child, when it is old enough to clarify
some of its concepts, can go a step further and use successful associations
of ideas to make rules for future cases, and thus to act consciously.
Notes. So far I have considered only the most general points that had
to be stated by way of introduction. However, some readers may welcome
the discussion, in the following notes, of some points that arise only after
a more detailed investigation of this subject.
l) In no. 15 ff. it was shown, roughly, how we a!Tived at a knowl-
edge of our body and its sensory organs. In a similar way we distinguish
whether a certain change in our perceptions derives from a change in our
body or in one of the other external objects. If it is a change in one of our
105
 THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE§. 303.
sensory organs, then it must uniformly extend to all perceptions deriving
from this organ. Thus, for example, I realise that the red spots which
I have had before my eye for a few seconds (since I have cast a glance
into the bright sun) stem from a change in the eye, not from a change in
another external object; the reason is that I see the spots superimposed
upon every object upon which I fix my eye. One could object that this
rule would also attribute the darkening of all objects after sundown to a
change in our eye or an extinction of vision, which would be absurd. But
there are two matters to be considered: first, the same blackout can be
achieved during the daytime as often as we want, so long we bring about
a certain external change, e.g., close the shutters; second, we can see at
159 night as soon as we make certain external changes, e.g., light a fire. These
circumstances demonstrate that the cause for this darkening does not lie
in our eyes, but is to be found in some external object.
2) Even simple people often ask the question whether and how they
can assure themselves that things present themselves to their senses in
the same way as they present themselves to the senses of other persons.
However, we can conclude that another being observes things in about
the same way we do if we notice that it reacts to them in the same way
we do, i.e., that it, too, has a desire for impressions which we find pleas-
ant, that it makes a distinction between objects between which we, too,
differentiate, etc. On the other hand, if we notice that somebody differen-
tiates things which we confuse, we justly ascribe to him sharper, or more
perfect, senses than ours.
3) There is another very interesting question, namely, why we con-
sider the location of some of our ideas and sensations to be in the mind,
while in other cases their actual place is considered to be in some part of
the body, and in still other cases we think neither of the mind, nor of the
body, but only of certain external objects. My opinion is that we consider
an idea or sensation as present only in ourselves if we do not notice any
external object as its immediate cause. Thus we say of a concept which
we form by mere thought, e.g., the concept of a perpetuum mobile, that it
is to be found only within ourselves (in our mind). On the other hand, if
an idea is caused by a noticeable change in our body, e.g., a wound on our
finger, then we locate this phenomenon in that specifically changed part
of our body. I have already discussed in no. 20 why we assume that a cer-
tain change in the body is the cause of that mental phenomenon. Finally,
if we do not notice the change itself which an external object produces in
160 the organs of our body, then we seek the cause of this idea outside of our
106
Of Judge1nents
body. It is for this reason that we place the sensations which are given
us by the sense of touch, taste, or smell in special organs of the body,
since the change which takes place in them whenever they give us these
sensations is also noticeable by other senses. If we touch something with
the tips of our fingers, the impression which this body makes upon the
fingers can be seen, etc. On the other hand, the ideas which we derive
from the sense of hearing or sight are referred to bodies outside of our
own body, since the changes suffered by these organs when they are ex-
ternally influenced are not usually noticeable by any of the other senses.
Only in rare cases, where a strong impression causes a sensation of pain
(when our ears ring or our eyes bum, etc.), are we reminded of the organ
which produced those ideas.
4) Given these assumptions, several questions which were raised with
respect to judgements derived from the sense of sight can be easily an-
swered. For example, how we can make such quick and automatic de-
cisions concerning the magnitude, distance, and position (left, right, up)
of every visible object and why do such judgements appear to us to be
immediate perceptions, so that we cannot disregard them even if other
circumstances show them clearly to be mistaken, whence we say that the
thing, though it is not really this way, at least appears to be this way? The
origin of such judgements is all the more puzzling since (a) the pictures
in the retina of the eye which (as was thought) are immediately seen by
the mind, appear twice (once in each eye), while actually there is only
one object; since (b) these pictures are usually much smaller than the ex-
ternal object which causes them, while we do not perceive this object to
be diminished in size, but in its normal size; since (c) a small body at
a close distance produces a larger picture than a large body at a greater 161
distance, while the distances are very nearly alike in all these pictures,
and especially since (cl) their position is reversed so that what is to the
left in the picture is to the right in actuality, and what in actuality is on
top is at the bottom of the picture, etc. In order to overcome these diffi-
culties, some philosophers have assumed that the mind has an immediate
sensation of the direction in which a light ray meets our eye; but aside
from the fact that this assumption still does not explain everything, it is
very hard even to understand. Rather, the correct explanation rests upon
different grounds. We have to make no decision whatsoever whether it
is the retina of the eye or some other part of our bodily machine which
receives the light impressions in the first place: the only definite thing is
that there is such a part and that the mind must perceive immediately the
107
 THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE§. 303.
changes which take place in it, and must infer, merely from its attributes,
the figure, magnitude, distance, and position of the visible objects in the
following way: whenever the organ is changed in the same way, the mind
infers a similar cause (unless some other circumstance inhibits this con-
clusion). Hence, if our eye (and indirectly also the actual mental organ)
is stimulated, and we reach for the stimulating object, and find it above,
then we expect an object in an upward position as often as the light ray
meets that place, i.e., we see it above, and so in other cases. If we ob-
serve the change in our perceptions when a body, which changes neither
size nor shape, approaches or recedes, if we notice what aspect it offers
when we have measured its distance with our hands or in some other way,
then we are in a position, the next time, to judge, merely from the way in
which it is represented to our organs, whether it has the same, a larger, or
a smaller distance. The fewer parts we can distinguish in it, the farther
away we take it to be. Every object whose size we have learned by touch
becomes a means for estimating either the distance or the size of other
162 objects: the distance if we know its size, and the size if we know its dis-
tance. Assume that you see, at a certain distance, a person with a staff in
his hand. Because he holds the staff in his hand, you know that they are
at the same distance. If you find that one end of the staff coincides with
the feet, the other with the head of the person, then you can conclude that
the staff is about as long as the person. If we see a bird of known size
pass in front of the sun or the moon, in such a way that these bodies are
not altogether covered by the bird, we conclude that they are larger than
the bird. Through practice we learn to draw such conclusions with great
rapidity, so that we no longer observe them, and are no longer conscious
of them. This explains why we mistake these judgements for immediate
perceptions, and why we cannot discount them even in cases when they
are incorrect and we are convinced of their falsity through inferences of
a different sort. Thus, sun and moon appear larger on the horizon than
when they are overhead, because they emit a dimmer light when they are
on the horizon, and are therefore taken to be farther away. That this is
the correct cause can be seen from the fact that the same bodies appear to
be of various size even on the horizon, if they appear under different cir-
cumstances; they seem especially large if we see a considerable number
of objects of known size, e.g., villages, rivers, valleys, etc., between our-
selves and them, especially if objects of considerable size are seen next to
them on the horizon, for example, trees or buildings, though they appear
to us under the same or even a smaller visual angle. An additional fac-
108
Of Judgements
tor is that from childhood on we found out nothing about these objects,
except what we learned by sight. Hence we find it natural to explain the
changes in their appearance from changes that take place in these bodies
themselves, while we do not usually assume that a body with which we
are more familiar, and of which we know that it does not quickly change
its size (e.g., a man), becomes smaller whenever we see it from a larger
distance. We are so used to giving it the same size, even though it takes up
much less space on our retina, that we take this judgement to be an imme- 163
diate perception and claim that it always appears to have the same size.
Heavenly bodies exhibit various degrees of brightness, depending upon
how far they are above the horizon, and this explains why we assume that
the skies have the form of a depressed sphere. But these considerations
do not explain the specific height that this sphere seems to have, and the
distance at which the stars appear to be. The experience that even the
highest towers, mountains, clouds, and other objects sometimes obscure
a star, shows only that the distance of the stars is still larger; but we do
not know how large it is, nor have we found a limit within which they lie.
Rather, it seems that people assume the heavenly sphere to be at various
distances, depending on rather accidental circumstances. Those who have
never lived in the open or are nearsighted tend to think of the sky as being
lower, and the stars as being smaller, than those who have often climbed
high mountains and have keen eyesight. Perhaps when we were children
we looked after a bird that was flying away, and it seemed to us that it got
lost in a cloud, and we thought that the cloud or, what comes to the same
thing, that the stars are as high as the bird; but the height of this bird we
estimated from the time it took for its flight, etc. Even astronomers do not
see the stars as larger, and this is clue to the fact that a judgement to which
we became accustomed in childhood can be corrected in later years but
cannot be replaced in such a way that it does not come to mind at all.*
And it is this coming to mind which we call seeming [Scheinen]. If these
explanations are correct, then the difficulties mentioned above are over-
come. For example, we assume that there is only one object, even though 164
there are two parts of our body (both eyes) which are changed so as to in-
dicate the presence of an object; this is a consequence of the fact that we
know from experience that if such and such corresponding parts of our
visual organ are simultaneously affected, there must be a single object
which is the cause of this affection. Consequently, we see double only
*Thus COMBE (Phreno/ogie, Braunschw., 1833) is incorrect in claiming that our in-
ability to suppress such illusions proves the immediacy of visual judgements.
109
 THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE§. 303. Of Judgements

if our eyes change position in a non-uniform manner, for example, when §.304.
we look up with one and down with the other. For now we do not just
grasp those parts which we took in when there was only one object, but Other opinions on this subject
others: one eye sees parts which make the object appear in one position,
and the other as if it stood in another. Hence we see it double. The retinal
The topic of the origin of our judgements is so important, that we can-
images are very small, but we do not attribute the same small size to ex-
not forego a brief mention and examination of differing opinions on the
ternal objects; the reason is, simply, that we do not gauge the magnitude
rnatter put forward by others.
of external objects from these pictures at all (we do not even know that
1) The distinction between mediate and immediate judgements sug-
they are there), but mainly, we estimate size by touching. Similar points
gests itself so readily in this discussion that almost no one overlooked
can be made about distances and position. Finally, it should be remarked
it, even though (§300, note 1) not everyone grasped it with sufficient dis-
that the question whether we see objects in their true magnitude, distance
tinctness. The distinction between conceptual and intuitional judgements,
and position, has a reasonable sense only if it is applied to individual
which I look upon as indispensable, has, however, been rejected as of-
objects. If we wanted to ask whether or not perhaps all objects appear
ten as it has been proposed. The opposition which XENOPHANES, and
smaller or closer than they are in actuality, or upside down, we should be
still more his students PARMENIDES and the ELEATICS set up between
asking something entirely absurd. For an object can be smaller, or closer,
pure rational knmvledge and sensory experience was based upon a dis- J 66
or reversed, only with respect to others, but we cannot claim this of all
tinction between conceptual and intuitional judgements, even if this was
objects at the same time.
not recognised completely distinctly. What they called rational knowl-
5) Vision is indisputably the most perfect of the senses given to man.
edge were judgements composed merely of pure concepts, and what they
Almost all objects which are revealed to our other senses are also per-
called experience were judgements which either contain an intuition or
ceptible by sight, and for the most part at distances where they are un-
else were derived from one which does. And when PLATO (most likely
detectable by the other senses. In addition, the ideas of this sense have
not the first) went so far as to claim that certain concepts and truths were
the greatest variety, and can be distinguished with the greatest precision.
innate in the soul, while others are only learned through experience, this
After sight comes hearing, and much lower than these stand touch, smell,
clearly referred to the above distinction. DESCARTES, LEIBNIZ, CUD-
165 a~d taste. The first of the lower senses ranks higher than the others in my
WORTH, and many others agreed. Today, in Germany at least (thanks
view because any body which is of sufficient extent, and which comes
principally to KANT), there is a general conviction that, with respect to
close enough to us, can be perceived and judged by this sense, at least
their origin, there are two essentially different kinds of judgement, one of
in a certain measure. This ranking of the senses is also the basis for the
which may indeed begin with experience (the perceptions of intuitions we
fact that when asking about bodies, we generally inquire about the colour
have), but is not grounded in experience, and the other consisting merely
and shape, as well as certain properties detectable by the combined use
of intuitions or perceptions. Opposed to this view are the EPICUREANS,
of touch and sight.* Furthermore, the images discussed in §284 which
the STOICS, CAMPANELLA, GASSENDI, HOBBES, LOCKE, and almost
a~company our ideas are almost exclusively images of colour and shape.
all English and French scholars to the present day, who maintain that all
Fmally, we are inclined to deny the actuality of any object we cannot see
of our knowledge has an empirical origin. To refute this view, it is only
or feel. The advantages I have enumerated also explain why when we use
necessary to give a precise explanation of what is meant by empirical
signs for the changes occurring within us they are almost always either
origin. Nobody disputes that we begin to judge only when certain exter-
audible or visible.
nal objects have acted upon us, and have produced intuitions in us. The
only question is which of the following two cases actually takes place:
(a) All judgements which we form are either immediate judgements of
*Hence the use of the expression: "What does it look like?" in place of "What is its perception (cf. §300, no. 12), or can be deduced from a number of such
nature'l" judgements without the help of judgements of a different sort, namely,

110 111
 THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE§. 304.
judgements which follow from pure concepts. (b) We also form some
167 conceptual judgements without deducing them from others.
Those who claim that all our judgements have empirical origin want
to opt for the first alternative; but I believe that this is refuted by the mere
fact that we form thousands of judgements whose origin cannot be ex-
plained in this way. For example, how could we explain in this manner
the simple judgement that fire burns? No matter how often we had simul-
taneously a perception of fire and an impression of pain, we could never
have formed the judgement that the same object is the cause of both, un-
less we had first formed the judgement that a pair of phenomena which
always happen at the same time have a common cause. I do not wish to
claim that we must put this judgement in words, but at least we must have
recognised it obscurely. Yet this judgement is purely conceptual. Indeed
the ways in which the defenders of empiricism tried to explain the ori-
gin of these judgements are not satisfactory in the least. LOCKE, REID,
BEATTIE, OSWALD, and others found it necessary to have recourse to
certain instincts, i.e., they all confessed that the matter is inexplicable.
HUME could explain the origin of the concepts of cause and effect only by
reference to observations of the repeated succession of certain phenom-
ena. But it seems obvious to me that such observation could only induce
us to apply these concepts; we must already have been convinced that
everything that happens has a cause if the observation that phenomenon
A always follows upon phenomenon B is to lead us to the conclusion that
there is a causal connection between the two.
2) When I say, however, that empiricism has never managed to pro-
vide a satisfactory explanation of the origin of even the most common
of our judgements, I by no means intend to convey that those who sup-
168 pose that there are two different sources of cognition (sensibility and rea-
son) have been fortunate enough to explain everything. On the contrary,
the greatest philosophers have admitted that much remains unexplained.
Even KANT (Critique of Pure Reason, A 141/B 180-81) recognised this,
speaking of "hidden abysses in the human soul, whose true operations
nature hardly ever divulges, or lays open to our gaze." TIEFTRUNK also
writes (G1: d. L., §73 note) "that the production of the principles of expe-
rience remains shrouded in darkness; for since every man's reason proves
to be creative in this respect, he is only very rarely aware of this act of
generation, and much remains for the student of reason to do in order to
raise the acts of reason in this respect to full clarity." It seems to me,
however, that the most difficult thing is not to explain how we arrive at
112
Of Judgements
our derivative conceptual judgements, but rather how we arrive at the
various judgements of experience, and in particular those we make with
such great fluency that we take them to be immediate. Principal among
these are judgements about temporal relations, e.g., between phenomena
occurring within us. These have received little by way of explanation,
and often no attempt is made to explain them at all. Most seem to have
believed that our soul immediately recognises the temporal order of its
0
wn ideas. LEIBNIZ (Nouv. Ess., II, xxvii, § 1) merely provided the hint
that we recognise differences of time and place from differences between
things, rather than the other way around (as LOCKE had claimed). Such
judgements would accordingly be mediate, though LEIBNIZ provided no
further explanation.
3) One of the most remarkable attempts was, without doubt, that of
BERKELEY (in his Treatise Concerning the Principles of Human Knowl-
edge and other writings). The fact that this philosopher denied the exis-
tence of the external material world need not have any detrimental effect
upon his explanation concerning the origin of mediated judgements of-
experience, since this mediation remains the same whether the intuitions 169
which we take to be caused by external objects are really caused by them
or (as BERKELEY thought) directly by God. He noted quite correctly that
the reason why we unite into one whole intuitions which come through
several senses, and take them to be the effect of one and the same object,
merely derives from the simultaneous presence of such intuitions. He
also noted correctly that we infer a causal connection when certain phe-
nomena always follow each other. He was not quite as successful in his
explanation concerning the origin of our knowledge of spatial relations.
He was quite correct in saying that the eye does not immediately give us
any other ideas but those of colours, hence that we never recognise im-
mediately the shape of a surface which is in front of us (as others had
thought) but he went too far when he claimed that through sight alone
we can never arrive at ideas of relations in space; that the theorem of the
three dimensions of space and other geometrical doctrines cannot be un-
derstood unless we have a sense of touch, and that for this very reason a
man born blind who is suddenly made to see cannot, by sight alone, tell
a cube from a sphere when they are put before him, and that he could not
even notice whether or not a body suspended before his eyes is in mo-
tion. The last remark seems to be the one that is most obviously false.
It is certain that the mind must notice immediately, and not only through
the mediation of the sense of touch, whether, during a period of time, its
113
 THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE§. 304.
visual organ is affected in just one way, or in different ways (whether it
receives one or several intuitions at that time); hence we must be justified
'
t 70 in the latter case, in concluding that a certain motion (in whatever body)
is the cause of the changing ideas which are coming in from the exter-
nal world. Concerning MOLYNEUX' s problem about the possibility of
distinguishing a cube from a sphere, LEIBNIZ gave what I take to be the
correct answer (in Nouv. Ess. II, ix, §8), namely, that this discrimination
could be made after some thought. In fact, it can be seen from the pre-
ceding section that the sense of touch is not absolutely necessary in order
to give an estimate of the spatial relations between external objects. For
example, we are justified in surmising that a given body recedes from us,
if the intuitions which it causes in the senses of sight, hearing, and smell
(i.e., senses other than touch), become weaker and weaker, or disappear
altogether. And if we are very attentive and notice how the sensory in-
tuitions, e.g., of sight or hearing, change gradually, we are later on put
in a position to infer from the nature of these intuitions the relative dis-
tance between the object and ourselves. The only difference is that now
the scale of distance is no longer determined by the sense of touch, but
will be distance as estimated by sight or hearing. We will no longer say
"the body is at arm's length" (i.e., we can barely touch it when we stretch
out our hand), but we will say "the body is as far away as a fly that we
can barely make out" or "the body is as far away as a man whom we
can barely hear talking" or "as far away as a rose we can just smell", etc.
But even if it were very difficult or even impossible, without the sense
of touch, to estimate the mutual spatial relations of bodies that act upon
us, we must never say that we would then be unable to grasp the truths
171 of geometry. It is true enough that the ordinary expositions of this sci-
ence take many properties of space as given, for example that it has three
dimensions, and we should perhaps avoid this. It is also true that most
of our proofs are carried out in a way that they convince only those per-
sons who already have some acquaintance with most spatial relations by
a mixture of touch and sight. But should it not be possible to proceed in
an entirely different way? Should it be altogether impossible to demon-
strate the truths of geometry from pure concepts, in such a way that even
those who connect no pictorial ideas with the words "line", "surface",
etc., must admit them?
4) TETENS (in his Vers. iih. d. mensch!. Nat., Vol. I, essay v) explains
the origin of our cognitions of the objective existence of things in a way
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Of Judgements
that is quite similar to mine, and makes a number of acute and noteworthy
remarks. Only a little of what he says seems incorrect to me. For exam-
ple, the formation of a judgement of the form "This (actual) object has
this attribute" is explained as follows (p. 390): first, the soul considers as
a whole A a number of sensations (intuitions), which the object conveys to
it; it then directs its attention to one part (one of these intuitions) a, recog-
nises this individual idea a as a part of the whole A, and thus forms the
judgement "The object A has the attribute a." In this way, only analytic
judgements would come about, for if the attribute a already lies within the
idea A, the judgement "A is a" is obviously analytic. On p. 399 one reads
that the concept of a substance requires a sensation "which can be present
by itself, separately, without being present as a part or trait in something
else; such is the feeling I have of myself or of an individual body. Such
a separate, complete feeling, from which the abstraction of a substance
arises, must possess a certain inner pe1fection. It must be possible for it to
be present alone and for itself, and thus able to fill the sensing soul during
perception so completely that no other greater and more widespread feel- 172
ing which contains it can be noticed at the same time." According to this
explanation, whether we should look upon something as a substance or
an accident would depend upon a quite fortuitous and uncertain circum-
stance. For even if an object has completely saturated our senses once or
several times, does it follow that it will always do so? And is the body
whose existence we infer from the intuitions just now formed in us only
one single substance? On the contrary: we declare every body which is
large enough to be perceived to be a collection of many, indeed infinitely
many, substances. In my view, things stand quite otherwise. From mere
concepts (or, as one says, from mere grounds of reason), we can gather
two things: first, that our own ego must be a substance, and indeed a sin-
gle substance; second, that every so-called external intuition (§286) must
be caused by an outer object, which is composed of an infinite multitude
of substances (by a so-called body). I cannot go into the reasons for the
first truth here; the reasons for the second are, briefly, as follows: there
are infinitely many finite substances in every finite space, all in mutual in-
teraction, so that those which lie within a finite distance from us together
only produce an effect of finite magnitude. Thus in order to bring forth
a change in our inner self such as a new intuition requires the activity of
a body, which, as a finite part of a finite sphere, must itself be composed
of infinitely many parts. Thus it requires no special observation to judge
whether an object we have perceived is a substance or not; for we know in
115
 THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE§. 304.
advance that every outer intuition is brought about through the collective
activity of an infinite multitude of substances.
173 From what has been said, one will readily gather that I would rather
express TETENS' rule ("We place every sensation in the thing, the simul-
taneous sensation of which contains it as a part in its whole", p. 415)
as follows: We always place the cause of an idea, sensation, etc., which
occurs in us in the only object we are aware of as changing at the same
time. This rule is used on p. 417 to explain why we place joy and sadness
within ourselves, namely, because we are aware of such states as parts
of the self. I would prefer to say that we locate joy and sadness within
ourselves because we know of no outer object (e.g., part of our body)
which changes in certain ways every time we have these feelings. For
this very reason, we do locate certain stronger feelings (e.g., anger) in
parts of the body, since we do perceive particular physical changes along
with such feelings. But TETENS himself hits upon this explanation (p.
418). I would also largely subscribe to what he says about ideas of hear-
ing and sight (p. 419 ff.). From Essay VI (p. 429 ff.), one may gather
that TETENS did not properly grasp the distinction between immediate
judgements of perception (which he calls pure judgements of sensation)
on the one hand and derived judgements or judgements of experience on
the other. For he claims that the judgement "The moon is as large as
the sun" is a pure sensation, and wants us to distinguish what belongs
to pure sensation from what is derived or added in thought by using the
following principle: "That of which I am distinctly and intensely [but
how distinctly and how intensely?] aware in my present feelings is gen-
uinely contained in them." Not so-rather, in order to distinguish pure
judgements of perception from others we must attend to their form. On p.
433, he rejects what I think is the correct explanation of why one sees a
man as having the same size even at different distances, which is that one
knows from other experiences that his size cannot change that quickly.
His reason for our doing so is that "in this example the awareness that I
174 feel and sense is too intense and vivid for me to have merely imagined
that I sensed it." I counter that it is not a matter of the degree of vividness
or confidence with which we form the judgement, since a mediate judge-
ment may also be formed with great vividness and confidence. Our belief
that we recognise the size immediately (i.e., that we believe we see it, as
TETENS expresses things) rather than by inference is only clue to the fact
that we are not conscious of the inference upon which the judgement is
based, and thus have formed the habit of making it involuntarily, even in
116
Of Judgements
cases where we know through other inferences of which we are distinctly
aware that the judgement is false.
5) The attempts of CONDILLAC and BONNET can be passed over
once we have considered the way in which Count DE TRACY (Elemens
d'fdeologie, II, p. 215 seq.) undertook to solve the above-mentioned
problem. He imagined how things would be if he had just begun his
life, though with a fully formed body. He supposed that he would attempt
to move at that very instant, and believed that this movement would pro-
duce a pure and simple idea. Car je ne puis y en joindre aucune autre
(idee), puisque je n 'en ai point encore perr;u. 1 This reason is, it seems
to me, insufficient, for ideas might also be produced in us which do not
come from the external world. Now where there is no judgement (je n 'en
porte aucun jugement) there can certainly be no error. But how do things
stand with the claim that this sensation or idea (idee) is certain? Cer-
tainty is an attribute which belongs only to judgements, and in fact I am
justified in the case of the sensation I have in judging that I have it. le
cesse (he continues) de m 'agiter; cette sensation cesse. Dans cet etat
de repos, cette sensation qui n 'existe plus, affecte de nouveau ma sen-
sibi!ite (may one ask how it is that something that no longer exists can
have effects?); j'y repense, je me la rapelle, comme on dit; c' est-(1-dire, 175
en termes plus exactes, )'en sens le souvenir. Comment cela se fait-il?
je n 'en sais rien; mais il est fa it, que c 'est un don, dont nous sommes
doues; et c'est ce don, que je nomme memoire. 2 (Now how a memory
in the proper sense-i.e., the judgement that we have previously had a
given idea-comes about can indeed be explained to a certain extent.) I
find this sensation pleasant (he continues), and desire that it be repeated.
There follows a second movement and a second sensation. Cette seconde
sensation cessera bientot comme la premiere; mais quand le souvenir
m 'en reviendra, il ne sera plus une idee aussi simple que le premia Ce
premier souvenir ne pouvait etre compose que de l'idee de la sensation
meme, et du jugement que cette idee en etait la representation; mais la
seconde peut deja et doit, pour etre complet, etre compose de l'idee que
cette sensation a ere eprouvee une premiere fois, de celle qu 'elle a cesse,
de celle qu 'on se I' est rappellee, de celle qu 'elle a ete jugee bonne a
1For I cannot connect another idea with it, since I haven't yet perceived any.
2I cease to agitate myself; this sensation ceases. In this state of rest, this sensation,
which no longer exists, affects my sensibility anew. I think of it again, I recall it as one
says, more precisely, I sense the memory of it. How does this happen'J I have no idea; but
it is a fact that it is a gift with which we are endowed, a gift which I call memory.
117
 THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE§. 304.
eprouve1; de celle qu 'elle a ete desiree en consequence-de ce jugemem,
de celle qu 'el le a ete renouvelee en suite de ce desi1; et meme peut-etre de
celle qu'elle a cesse de nouveau malgre la continuation de ce desil; et de
celle de plusieurs autres circonstances. l It is not obvious to me why au
of these ideas, or rather judgements, would have to occur. Indeed, I can-
not even comprehend how some of them could have been formed at all,
e.g., that the sensation reappeared afterwards (ensuite), i.e., through the
action of the desire. Only if we have already experienced several times
that a change occurs after we have wished that it would do we gather that
our wish or will (the two are not then separate) has the power to bring
about certain results. According to DE TRACY we infer the existence
of other beings merely from the resistance we feel to our desires. This
seems incorrect (even though I know that most scholars agree with this
view). I believe that there are also intuitions which in and of themselves
176 point towards certain objects, distinct from us, as their cause. L'idee de
vouloir et l'idee de resister (we read on p. 237) sont done !es deux noy-
aux, !es deux germes, autour des quels viendront se grouper toutes les
idees, que par la suite je reconnaitrai appartenil; soit cl mon moi, soit
aux etres, qui ne sont pas lui, et qui cornposent l'idee totale, que j'aurai
de chacun de ces etres. L'idee de mon moi deviendra, outre l'idee de
vouloil; celle d'avoir un cmps, des membres, des organes, par les-quels
il sent, qui obeissent a ses volontes, et celle de posseder !es facultes, !es
puissances, !es faiblesses, !es jouissances et !es miseres, qui en resultent.
L'idee des aittres etres, au nombre desquels sont mon cmps et mes mem-
bres, sera Olttre celle de resiste1; eel/es de reunir toutes !es circonstances
et !es proprietes, par lesquelles ils affectent ma sensibilite, et qui carac-
terisent chacun d' eux. 2 (One seeks a more detailed explanation of the
1This second sensation will soon cease; but when the memory recurs, it will no longer
be as simple an idea as the first. This first memory could only be composed of the idea
of the sensation itself, and of the judgement that this idea was the representation of that
sensation; but the second can be and, if it is to be complete, must be composed of the
ideas that this sensation had been felt a first time, that the sensation had ceased, that one
had recalled it, that it had been judged good to feel, that it had consequently been desired,
that it had been renewed following this desire, and perhaps even that it had ceased once
again despite the continuation of this desire, and of several other circumstances.
2 The ideas of willing and resisting are thus the two cores, the two seeds, around which
come to be grouped all the ideas I afterwards recognise to belong either to myself or to
other beings, and which make up the entire idea I shall have of each of these beings. The
idea of myself will become, in addition to the idea of willing, that of having a body, limbs,
and organs, by means of which it senses, which obey its will, and that of possessing the
faculties, powers, weaknesses, joys, and miseries that result from them. The idea of other
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Of Judgements
waY in which all of this happens in vain-not only here but also on p.
3g7, where the author speaks further on the subject). On p. 397 the Count
seems to want to explain how the concept of extension comes to be. fl
faudrait commencer par montre1; comment, apres avoir appris, qu 'un
etre est lei, qui resiste a notre desir de sentir du mouvement, nous ap-
prenons, que cet etre resistant est etendu, parce qu 'en continuant asentir
du mouvement, nous continuons a sentir la resistance de cet etre; ce qui
nous prouve, qu 'il est compose de parties, qui se presentent successive-
ment en opposition au mouvement, que nous faisons, cest-c't-dire comme
on dit ordinairement, compose de parties, qui existent hors et a cote !es
1
1111 es des mitres. (Here it remains to be explained how we know that we
move ourselves, i.e., our body.) fl faudrait faire voir ensuite, que cette
inertie, cette impenetrabilite, ayant acquis anotre egard la qualite d'etre
erendue, parce qu'elle continue a s'opposer a differens mouvemens suc-
cessifl', a cependant des limites qui determinent laforme du corps, auquel
elle appartient, et qui composent sa swface. Par ce moyen on aurait la
generation exacte des idees solidite et swface physiques et reelles. 2 (I do
not find this explanation clear either. What we sense are not boundaries, 177
but bodies, and that bodies must be bounded is something which must be
recognised a priori. For this reason, I cannot agree with DE TRACY when
he claims on p. 422 that nothing-i.e., empty space-is also perceptible.)
6) Prof. HERBART (Lehrb. d. Psych., § 18 l) notes quite correctly that
judgements are more than mere combinations (complications or amalga-
mations) of ideas. He may well have gone too far, however, when he
seems to claim (ibid., also Einl. z. Phil., §52) that every judgement must
be preceded by a question, because the subject, as such, must always first
waver between many determinations so that the determinable can con-
front the predicate. In particular, he seems not to have noticed that every
beings, which include my body and limbs, will be, in addition to that of resisting, that
of uniting all the circumstances and properties by which they affect my sensibility and
which characterise each of them.
1One would have to begin by showing how, after having learned that a being is present
which resists our desire to feel movement, we learn that this resisting being is extended,
because in continuing to feel movement we also continue to feel the resistance of this
being. This proves that it is composed of parts which successively oppose our motion,
i.e .. as one ordinarily says, composed of parts which are outside and beside one another.
2
Afterwards, one would have to show that this inertia, this impenetrability, having
acquired the quality of extension from our point of view, because it continues to oppose
different, successive movements, nevertheless has limits that determine the shape of the
body it belongs to and which make up its surface. In this way, one would obtain the exact
generation of ideas of solidity and real, physical surfaces.
119
 THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE§. 305.
question is already a judgement, namely, the judgement that one demands
to know what is asked. I would not even claim that the hesitation between
several determinations makes an object more suitable to be a subject of
our judgement. For why should we not judge more readily and confi-
dently in cases where we do not hesitate at all? The way that HERBART
attempts to explain the origin of the concepts of space and time (Lehrb.
d. Psych., § 163-178) is especially clever. He is certainly right to remark
that we are only able to make judgements about space and time by means
of certain sequences of ideas appearing in our minds. What he says seems
to fall short, however, in that: (a) he nowhere explains on what basis we
infer whether given ideas in us are simultaneous or follow one another·,
(b) that he presents things as if the ideas of the spatial and the tempo-
ral were independent, whereas (I believe) spatial relations can only be
grasped by means of temporal relations; (c) I cannot see why movement
of the eye is an unavoidable necessity for spatial judgements; for experi-
178 ence teaches us that in order to see distinctly, our eye must be motionless.
§.305.
The doctrine of the Critical Philosophy concerning this point
The way that the origin of our judgements is explained in Critical Philos-
ophy has so many peculiarities and such important consequences, and is
still held in such high esteem in some places that it seems appropriate to
evaluate it separately.
1) To begin with, KANT distinguished analytic and synthetic judge-
ments, and claimed that the origin of the former could be easily explained
by the fact that in them a predicate which was a constituent of the idea
of the subject was ascribed to that subject. I do not find this explanation
completely satisfactory. For even if I assume that by analytic proposi-
tions, KANT only meant those of the forms "A, which is B, is A" and "A,
which is B, is B", we still cannot be certain of such a judgement until we
have convinced ourselves that the idea of an A which is B has an object.
Thus we cannot form the judgement "A triangle, which is equiangular, is
equiangular" until we are convinced that there are equiangular triangles.
The question thus arises of how we know that the idea of an A which
is B has an object, or, what amounts to the same, how we come by the
synthetic judgement "Some A are B''.
2) With respect to synthetic judgements, KANT distinguishes the em-
pirical from the a priori. He claims that explaining the origin of the
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Of Judgements
former presents no problems, because the pred.ica~e, although. ~t is ~ot
here part of the subject-concept, is to be met with m the (empmcal) 111-
'ti·on connected with it. Thus the judgement "All bodies are heavy," is
tlll . . . . .
supposed to arise because we find the charactenstlc of he.avmes~, w.h~ch 179
admittedly does not form part of the concept of a body, 111 the 111tmt10n
we have of a body. This explanation is no more satisfactory than the
receding one. For a single intuition which I have connected with the
~oncept of a body, i.e., in a single judgement of the form "This (which
is presently acting on me) is a body" can in no way bring me to make
the judgement that all bodies are heavy; at most I could form the judge-
ment that this body (the one I am presently intuiting) is heavy. Thus it
should have been shown how we come to make the comparatively (if not
strictly) universal judgement that all bodies are heavy. But what has been
said here doesn't even explain the origin of the singular judgement: this
body is heavy. For if it were true (as is said here) that we encounter the
characteristic of heaviness as a constituent in the intuition we have of this
body, i.e., in the idea which forms the subject-idea in our judgement, then
this judgement would also be analytic, which it shouldn't be according
to the explanation and isn't in fact. In my view, things stand like this:
in the judgement "This body is heavy", the subject-idea "this body" does
not contain the idea of heaviness, but rather certain other completely dif-
ferent intuitions, e.g., of colours, odours and the like. It has the form:
"The object which is the cause of the colour I see, the odour I smell, etc";
and the judgement itself states that this object is also heavy, i.e., is also
the cause of certain intuitions that I have, namely, of a pressure which I
feel, etc. We can see from this that the formation even of this singular
judgement requires several repeated perceptions. There must have been
a repeated co-occurrence of the intuitions that stand under the concepts
"colour", "odour", etc. with the intuition that stands under the concept
of that pressure, if I am to be justified in the conclusion (even the proba- 180
ble conclusion) that the same object which is the cause of one is also the
cause of the other.
3) It is supposed to be difficult (according to KANT) to explain the
origin of synthetic judgements that are also a priori. Here it is asked:
what is the unknown X that the understanding makes use of when it con-
siders the concept A to be connected with a predicate B which is foreign
to it? Here, precisely where K. encountered a difficulty, it seems to me
that there is nothing incomprehensible. What justifies the understanding
in attributing to a subject A a predicate B which does not lie in the con-
121
 THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE§. 305.
cept A? Nothing, I say, but that the understanding has and knows the
two concepts A and B. I think that we must be in a position to judge
about certain concepts merely because we have them. For, to say that
somebody has certain concepts A, B, C, ... surely means that he knows
them and can distinguish them. But to say that he knows them and can
distinguish them means that he can claim something about one of them
which he would not want to claim about the others, hence it means that
he judges about them. Since this holds generally, it also holds in the case
when these concepts are simple. But in this case, the judgements which
we make about them are certainly synthetic. Without doubt, these syn-
thetic judgements, whose subjects are the simple concepts A, B, C, D, ... ,
put us in a position to form further synthetic judgements about compound
concepts which result from the combination of A, B, C, D, ... , either by
themselves, or together with still other concepts. Thus it seems certain to
me that we must be in a position to form some synthetic judgement about
any object, so long as we have a concept of it.
4) KANT thought that the origin of such synthetic judgements a priori
181 had to be explained in a completely different way. Here too (he claimed)
because the predicate is not contained in the subject-concept, we must
find it in an intuition connected with the concept (the construction of con-
cepts by means of intuitions). I have just shown how poorly the origin of
empirical judgements is explained by appealing to a connection between
the subject-idea and an intuition. Things are even worse in the case of a
priori judgements. For while the subject-concept in such judgements al-
ways comprehends an infinite number of objects, the intuition we connect
with it can only present one single object; and the inference from what is
the case with this one to what is the case with all is not only invalid but
also cannot deliver the certainty and the insight into the impossibility of
the contrary that such judgements are boasted to have.
5) Yet KANT countered that the intuitions which mediate synthetic
judgements a priori are of a special kind: not empirical, but rather pure or
a priori. This is why our judgements are not merely probable, but rather
certain and necessary. These pure intuitions are either spatial or temporal
ideas. The reader already knows from §79 that and why I do not recog-
nise any intuitions in these ideas. In general, I cannot perceive any such
difference as KANT describes among the intuitions of which humans are
capable. But even if there were some such difference, it is obvious that
it is not enough simply to point it out. Rather, one would have to show
how the origin of synthetic judgements a priori becomes explicable on
122
Of Judgements
the basis of this particular kind of intuition. In all of KANT' s writings
on this topic, however, there is no passage which speaks of this with the
desired precision. The most important passages are in the Critique of
pure Reason, A 140/B 179 ff., A 713/B74 l ff. From these, one gathers that
K. thought he had noticed a very important distinction between the in- 182
tuitions corresponding to a certain concept, e.g., that of a triangle which
was produced by the actual construction of an object standing under the
concept (actually drawing a triangle) and intuitions produced purely by
the imagination. He calls the former empirical, and admits that they can
produce no universality or necessity. The latter, however, which he calls
pure, are claimed to do so. I must confess that this distinction seems com-
pletely unimportant to me. For whether we merely imagine a triangle or
actually draw one, it changes little in our idea; at most it might become
more vivid or easier to retain or reproduce in the latter case. (b) KANT
seems to have sensed this himself; accordingly, he sometimes required
that these constructions occur not in imagination in general, but instead
in pure imagination. But this, it seems to me, is just hiding behind ob-
scure words. For what is pure imagination and how do its operations and
results differ from those of empirical imagination? (c) KANT says that
the empirical imagination only produces images, while the pure imagina-
tion produces schemata, where a schema is not so much an image as the
idea of a method or rule for providing a concept with its image. I must
confess that I cannot understand how an idea of a method can be called
an intuition, nor how this idea of a method for providing a concept with
its image differs from a so-called genetic definition (which no one will
want to count among the intuitions). If the schema of a circle is nothing
but the idea of a method of providing an object can be provided for the
concept of a circle, then a schema is nothing but an idea of the way in
which a circle is generated, i.e., nothing but the well-known definition 183
of a circle, which is called a genetic definition, namely, the concept of a
line which is described by a point that moves in a plane in such a way
that it always maintains the same distance from a given point. Thus if
one recognises the truth of a synthetic proposition through the consider-
ation of the schema of its subject-concept, one recognises this truth from
the consideration of mere concepts. (d) How excessive, moreover, is the
claim made in many places (e.g., Critique of Pure Reason, B 154) that "we
cannot think any relation in space without constructing it, that we cannot
think any line, any circle, without first describing them, that we cannot
think the three dimensions of space without putting three lines at right
123
 THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE§. 305.
angles to each other in the same point. And even time cannot be thought
unless, in drawing a straight line (which is supposed to be the external
figurative idea of time) we attend merely to the activity of the synthesis
of the manifold through which we successively determine inner sense,
and thereby attend to the succession of this determination." I admit that
such constructions often serve to increase the distinctness and vividness
of our ideas and that we are for this reason quite accustomed to perform-
ing them, to the point where they are almost involuntary. But it can be
shown by many examples that such constructions are not indispensable.
Thus nobody will deny that even a beginner can understand me when I
define a dodecahedron as a body which is bounded by twelve similar and
equal plane faces. From that moment on he will connect a concept with
that word; he will think something by it, something that is correct. On
the other hand, will he be able to construct such a dodecahedron? Does
he already know whether the bounding faces are triangles or pentagons,
etc.? The dispensability of such a construction is even more obvious in
the following concept: "a finite spatial object which is fully determined
by two of its points, and each point of which stands in the same relation
184 to the whole". Perhaps several readers will not even know, for a moment
or two, whether this spatial thing falls into the class of lines, surfaces, or
bodies. How could they be in a position to produce a construction of it?
Or are we supposed to believe that such an indistinct and obscure picture
as our imagination can produce in this case can actually contribute some-
thing to the recognition of the properties of this object? But we certainly
think this object, and we are even in a position, by taking some thought, to
determine what kind of thing it is, namely, the surface of a sphere, where
those two points form the poles.
But even with the concepts with which we are able to connect im-
ages, e.g., those of a circle or ellipse, etc., it may well be quite wrong to
suppose that we obtain an idea of the image only by drawing it. Rather
it is the other way around: we can only make the drawing (whether it
take place in actuality or in the imagination) because we already have the
idea. (e) What a sad makeshift, furthermore, is the distinction between
these two kinds of construction! If mathematicians choose so many sym-
bols for the general concept of a quantity and the various combinations
thereof in algebra, e.g., a, b, +, -, etc., this is by no means a matter of
necessity. They can prove their theorems without using such symbols,
although this would require more words, and such verbosity would make
it harder to grasp the proofs. It is said that this symbolic or character-
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Of Judgen1ents
istic construction presents the concepts of algebra, principally those of
he relations of quantities, in intuition; but I don't see how the symbols
~ or_ can be claimed to present the concept of addition or subtraction in
intuition, unless one is willing to say the same for other symbols used by
hilosophers to present concepts of logic or metaphysics. EULER'S use 185
~f circles, one contained within the other, to depict the relation between
a higher and a lower concept certainly has more intuitiveness than the
designation of a sum by a+ h and a difference by a - b. (f) I find the
distinction between the schemata of sensible concepts and those of pure
concepts still more obscure. The latter, moreover, are supposed to be intu-
itions, without themselves being images, nor even being capable of being
brought to an image. (g) How odd, finally, is the claim that "images must
always be connected with the concept only by means of a schema, but
themselves are never completely congruent with the concept." What does
"congruent" mean here? To be identical? By no means, for the image is
never the same as the concept. To be subsumable under the concept? This
can happen with or without a schema.
6) Perhaps the way that KANT conceived of the origin of synthetic
judgements a priori through the mediation of pure intuitions can be bet-
ter gathered from the examples he gives than from his general explana-
tions. In the Critique of Pure Reason (B 15), he declares the proposition
7 + 5 = 12 to be a synthetic judgement, since it is in no way thought in
the concept of the sum of 7 and 5 what the number is that they make
up together. "One must," he says accordingly, "go beyond these con-
cepts, and draw upon an intuition corresponding to one of them, perhaps
one's five fingers; and one after the other acid the units of the five given
in intuition to the concept of seven." At A716/B744 he provides another
example, the proposition that the angles of a triangle, taken together, acid
up to two right angles. "The geometer begins immediately by construct-
ing a triangle. He knows that the adjacent angles which can be drawn
from a point on a straight line add up to two right angles. So he produces
one side of his triangle, and obtains two adjacent angles, which together 186
equal two right angles. He now divides the outer one by drawing a line
parallel to the opposite side of the triangle, and sees that in this way an
adjacent angle is created which is equal to the inner angle, etc." From
these and similar examples I conclude that assumptions that are based
upon certain obscure reasons, usually merely upon the testimony of the
senses, especially the eye, were taken by KANT to be effects of a special
pure intuition. Although mathematicians have succeeded in defining their
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 THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE§. 305.
concepts more precisely, and giving stricter proofs than is the case in any
other science, they still have not succeeded in defining their fundamental
and most general concepts, and they introduce their initial propositions ei-
ther without proof or with proof that is not truly scientific. Thus the usual
textbooks of arithmetic do not give an exact definition of the concept of
a sum. If this had been done, and had they said that a sum is a collection
where the order of parts is not taken into account, and where the parts of
the parts should be looked upon as parts of the whole (§84) they would
have found that the following analytic proposition follows immediately
from this definition: a+ (b + c) =(a+ b) + c. By an application of this
theorem together with the definitions that 7 + 1 = 8, 8 + 1 = 9, etc., the
proposition 7 + 5 = 12 is produced as a purely analytic truth for which no
intuition whatsoever is required. Even KANT must have been somewhat
hard put to find the kind of intuition which allegedly occurs in this case.
He concluded that, since the units of 5 are added to 7 one after another,
it is an intuition of time which underlies these inferences. What a conclu-
sion! One could say, for the very same reason, that every sorites depends
upon an intuition of time, since we arrive at its conclusion only in time.
The other example is more difficult, since the concepts which are
187 present in the proposition are much more complex than in the preceding
case. I should have to write an entire treatise of geometry if I wanted to
show how this proof can be produced from pure concepts. I will there-
fore be satisfied with the following remarks. When a geometer (according
to KANT' s description) begins his proof by drawing a triangle, either in
imagination or on a piece of paper, we must ascribe these activities to the
present impetfection of his science. We can think of a proof procedure
which does not require an imaginary triangle, or in any case one which
requires it only to facilitate the argument, in the same way that we need
to write down the propositions when we go through a sorites, so that we
don't forget what we began with and how far we have proceeded. It is
said, quite properly, that the geometer sees how the extension of one side
produces an external angle, and how it is divided into two parts by a line
parallel to the base, and how these two angles are equal to two angles
in the triangle, etc. But it is not necessary, I say, that we must see these
things; the testimony of the eyes is not required; the geometer could con-
clude all of this from his concepts. If we consider that this kind of seeing
is not an immediate conception, but is inferred from our immediate per-
ception through the unconscious application of many geometrical truths,
then we will hardly be inclined to elevate these judgements, which are
126
Of Judgements
formed without a clear consciousness of their ground, to a special source
of knowledge under the name of pure intuitions.
7) I found it necessary in §79, in addition to consulting KANT, to
turn to SCHUUZ, the commentator he praised so highly. So too here.
In the second part of his Priijimg one finds two long passages (p. 62 ff.
and p. 157 ff.) bearing on these matters. (a) The first states that from
the moment we are aware of intuiting a piece of gold, the predicate "yel-
low" is given simultaneously along with it through this (merely empir-
ical) intuition, in such a way that we would have to overrule our entire 188
consciousness if we were not to accept the judgement: "This piece of
gold is yellow." How excessive! A judgement of this kind is by no means
;n immediate judgement of perception, but rather must be inferred from
such, and this via the well-known premise: if certain intuitions A,B, C, ...
always occur together, they probably have the same cause. The conclu-
sion: "This piece of gold is yellow" is thus only probable, and does not
exclude the possibility of error. Why then would we have to overrule our
entire consciousness if we didn't admit it? (b) Of a priori intuitions it
is said that these bring with them the consciousness of inner necessity.
But what can this mean when necessity in the sense used here can belong
to propositions or judgements, but not to ideas? (c) The well-known ax-
iom that two straight lines can meet in at most one point is considered
for the sake of elucidation. One is not justified in saying that the only
way to convince oneself of the truth of this proposition is by constructing
its subject-concept merely because so far no other means is known. Did
not SCHULTZ himself tell us that in the short time between the publica-
tion of parts one and two of his book he had discovered how to prove
propositions which he had listed among the axioms in Part I? Further-
more, if we consider the way he demonstrates that we see the truth of the
above proposition only through intuition, we find nothing more than the
repeated assurance that we are aware through inner self-consciousness
that it is so. This is admittedly a succinct proof, but it will only be ac-
cepted by those who are already convinced of the truth of the proposition
to be proved. Only SCHULTZ promised to show not only that, but also
how, pure intuition grounds this axiom. Concerning the how not a word is
said; instead, we are told that all of this is immediate, so that no how can
be indicated. (d) Given that SCHULTZ infers so much from conscious- 189
ness, we desire to learn what he means by this. For my part, I maintain
that consciousness is the knowledge or cognition of a truth, and the ex-
pressions "I am aware of the truth A, I know it, recognise it, I now form
127
 THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE §. 305.
the judgement A or have formed it previously, and am in a position to re-
new it" are equivalent. With regard to self-consciousness, I think I agree
with ordinary usage when I declare it to be immediate knowledge con-
cerning ourselves, thus limiting it to knowledge of our own existence and
that which occurs within us. For no one considers other knowledge which
also concerns only ourself, e.g., of the simplicity of the soul, its immortal-
ity, etc., to be part of self-consciousness. This is obviously because these
judgements are inferred.* When I read (p. 157) that all our know ledge is
ultimately based upon self-consciousness, and interpret this to mean that
without being aware of what occurs within ourselves we could not know
anything else, this does not seem completely correct. For I do not think
that it is absolutely necessary for us to think of ourselves in order to know
any given truth, nor for us to be in a position to form the judgement that
we recognise this truth. Thus I believe that a young child forms many
judgements, including correct ones, before it attains self-consciousness.
When I read, further, that SCHULTZ declares self-consciousness to be the
"I think, I represent something", I cannot reconcile this with my own con-
cept. And when immediately afterwards the consciousness "that certain
190 ideas are either impossible for us under certain conditions, or absolutely"
is reckoned to be part of self-consciousness, I find this an overly wide
extension of this concept, and indeed a serious error, especially since it is
claimed afterwards that self-consciousness teaches us immediately, with-
out any inference. For the impossibility of a certain idea (that something
cannot be) is by no means an object of immediate cognition, but rather
must be inferred; for it simply means (according to § 182) that this as-
sumption contradicts a purely conceptual truth. Nor will SCHULTZ allow
self-consciousness to be called a sense (namely, an inner sense). We need
not hold this against him, especially since he declares self-consciousness
to be an ability "which must teach us immediately and non-inferentially
what is determined through our cognitive faculties (i.e., sensibility, un-
derstanding, and reason), and which consequently is grounded in a nec-
essary and invariable way in them alone." There neither is nor can be
any such ability. For it can be said of all purely conceptual truths we
recognise that we recognise them by means of our cognitive faculties (if
reason is counted among these), and that consequently all this knowledge
is grounded in a necessary and invariable way in our cognitive faculties
alone; all of these, then, would have to be known immediately, which is
*The expression "immediate self-consciousness", which one sometimes hears, is thus
somewhat redundant.
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Of Judgements
known not to be the case. SCHULTZ indeed says that if we did not possess
a faculty like self-consciousness as he describes it, we could know none
of these truths. But how does this follow? Why, if we do not know imme-
diately that something is unthinkable (i.e., false), should we not be able
to do so mediately, by inference? Since I take self-consciousness to be a
kind of knowledge, hence a judgement, and since judgements are neither
intuitions nor the ability to form intuitions, I agree that self-consciousness
should not be confused with the faculty of intuition. But when SCHULTZ
(as is almost certainly the case) intends to indicate with this claim that 191
self-consciousness does not spring from intuitions, not even inner intu-
itions, I cannot agree. For the judgement "I have this idea" requires an
intuition of this idea, thus an intuition of what occurs in our soul. And
insofar as the ability to form such intuitions is called inner sense, I say
that our self-consciousness, if it is not inner sense itself, at least requires
it. For the same reasons I admit that self-consciousness is not an idea.
But when it is added that it is only through self-consciousness that ideas
become mine, I think that this is expressed poorly. For an idea can also be
mine when I am not aware of it. One should say instead that we recognise
ideas as our own via self-consciousness. It should be noted that when
SCHULTZ distinguished self-consciousness from an idea he has some-
thing altogether different in mind. For he uses the word idea (as many
others do) in such a wide sense that it covers judgements as well. Thus
when he says that self-consciousness is not an idea, he also denies that it
is a judgement. Although I know that many share this view, I candidly ad-
mit that I can form no concept of such an ability in our soul, which refers
to the processes of thought, but is neither an idea (in the strict sense) nor
a judgement. (e) "I am aware," he continues, "empirically, through inner
sensation, that I can represent outer things as either not existing or being
different; for whenever I seek this idea, I actually have it." Against this,
I will point out first that what is here called sensation I call intuition; for
sensation is a word we require to designate another kind of inner phe-
nomenon. I also find the expression "I can represent outer things as either
not existing or being different" ambiguous; for it can be taken to mean 192
either "I can form an idea of external things not existing or being differ-
ent" or "I know that outer things might not exist or might be different." I
can only agree with the statement on the first interpretation. We certainly
know from our own sensation (better, from intuiting an idea which is now
present within us) that we are able to form an idea of the non-existence of
things, or of their being different. But I cannot agree with the claim under
129
 THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE§. 305.
the second interpretation. For in no case are we able to know from mere
intuition (or sensation) that things outside of us might or might not be dif-
ferent; moreover, I doubt whether any kind of consideration can put us in
a position to know this. The proof that SCHULTZ provides for his claim
suggests that he had the first interpretation in mind. "Whenever 1 seek
this idea, I actually have it," he says. This cannot prove that things might
in fact be different, but rather only that I can imagine them being differ-
ent. Yet he adds: "By contrast, I am immediately aware, independently
of all sensation, which can never teach us of the absolute impossibility
of things, that it is absolutely unthinkable that space might not exist or
might be different, as unthinkable as an A which isn't A." Here SCHULTZ
obviously passes from one meaning to the other, for no one can dispute
the possibility of merely having the idea that there is no space, or that
space is constituted quite differently. Simply by speaking of this idea,
one produces it in one's mind. And when we prove the impossibility of a
193 solid bounded by twenty-four equal faces, must we not first form an idea
of such a solid? And is not this idea an idea of a space which would be
different from what it really is? Certainly SCHULTZ does not claim that
the mere idea of another space is impossible, but only that the space itself
is impossible. But if this is the case, one may fairly ask, first, what con-
nection there is between the first proposition and the second; and second,
with what right may one claim that insight into this impossibility belongs
to one's immediate awareness? That a body such as I have just described
is impossible is not something we recognise immediately; rather, it re-
quires many inferences to see this. We may recognise other attributes of
space, e.g., that two straight lines can only have one point in common,
more quickly, and without being aware of the grounds which support this
knowledge. But no one has shown that they are groundless, i.e., immedi-
ate cognitions. (f) On p. 131 one reads: "Geometrical objects in general
are lines, sutfaces, and solids. Thus one or more of these must occur
in every geometrical definition. But what lines, surfaces, and solids are
cannot be understood by means of any definition, but only through intu-
ition, since (?) space is an individual, and hence comprehensible through
the immediate representation of the singular. It follows that no geometri-
cal definition is comprehensible unless the defined object is individually
produced in pure intuition by the productive imagination. If geometrical
demonstrations were possible without construction of concepts, it would
have to be possible to produce a demonstrative system of geometry with-
out knowing what the words in the definitions and propositions mean,
130
Of Judgements
indeed without knowing whether they designated something real or not."
No one will want to deny that it is impossible to prove that a proposition
is true, or to see that it is true by itself, as long as one does not know
which concepts are designated by the words used to express it. But it
is incorrect, in the first place, to say that apart from analysing a concept
into its constituents, i.e., defining it, or presenting in (pure) intuition an
object which stands under it, there is no other way of communicating a 194
concept connected with a certain word to someone else. For there are
words which designate a simple concept, e.g., "something", "actuality".
We have also learned the meanings of these words, something which did
not occur either through definition or by means of a pure intuition of an
object standing under the concept. In general, the requirement of secur-
ing an understanding about the meaning of words only arises when we
seek to communicate them to others, not in solitary reflection. Thus what
is said here would at most point out a difficulty in explaining the origin
of such mathematical knowledge as one obtains through instruction by
others. It would not show the impossibility of producing such knowledge
by means of one's own reflection. The other points have already been
answered elsewhere.
8) It remains to consider how the origin of our judgements of experi-
ence is explained in the Critical Philosophy. Concerning first the judge-
ments in which we express temporal relations between our own ideas,
I cannot see that they have attempted to explain how they are formed.
The assurance that time cannot be perceived in and of itself is indeed
repeated ad nauseam, and it is explained in great detail on what basis
we gather that certain phenomena or changes in the external world fol-
low one another, or are simultaneous; yet not a word is said about how
we recognise that two ideas or phenomena within us occur at the same
or different times. It seems, instead, that KANT took these judgements
to be immediate. Thus in the Critique of Pure Reason, Al 89/B233, we
read: "I am only aware that my imagination places one thing before the
other"* -which sounds as if the former judgement is taken to be imme- 195
diate. Now, concerning external objects: we are supposed to gather the
temporal sequence, e.g., that Bis later than A from our presentation of A
as the cause of the effect B; and the latter is supposed to be recognised
from our inability to perceive B earlier than A, while we are able to per-
'It is admittedly difficult to reconcile this with what is said at B 156, namely, "that we
always gather determinations of duration or temporal location of our inner perceptions
based upon changes in external things."
131
 THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE§. 305.
ceive A before B. Simultaneity, i.e., that A and B are at the same time, we
are supposed to recognise based upon our finding the objects A and B to
stand in a relation of interaction; while we gather the latter from the fact
that A is perceived sometimes before and sometimes after B. Against this
I recall that actual causes and effects do not follow one another in time,
but rather are simultaneous. KANT himself seems to have sensed this,
when he wrote (A203/B248): "For the most part, active causes in nature
are simultaneous with their effects." This passage is extremely obscure,
and I openly admit that I cannot understand how it is connected to the
distinction made here between the order of time and the lapse of time;
just as little do I understand how two things can be simultaneous, i.e.,
at the same time, and yet temporally determinable, i.e., distinguishable.
Towards the encl, we find a completely different indicator: A is the cause
of B if I never perceive A without B, but sometimes perceive B without A.
9) SCHULTZ has explained at great length how we come to recog-
nise the diverse spatial relations (Priifung, Part I, p. 182 ff.). Against
PLATNER' s claim that space is merely an idea of sight, he quite correctly
remarks that what we immediately sense with the eyes is nothing other
than light. But he goes too far when he says immediately afterwards:
"To someone seeing for the first time, all objects must appear to be mere
196 masses of coloured light, which are located immediately in his eyes." For
someone seeing for the first time will know nothing of the location of the
objects which cause these ideas of light. The following, too, seems ex-
cessive to me: "Indeed, since the ideas of sight are not accompanied by
any feeling of resistance, by means of them alone he cannot even know
that there exists something other than himself." Why not? From a so-
called outer intuition I rightly infer that there is an external object which
produced it. Feelings of resistance are in no way required for this. And
if they were, would ideas of sight be utterly free from them? Does it
really depend only upon our will whether we become aware of a light
when someone enters the dark room we are in with a lit candle? Still
more incorrect and in obvious contradiction with the principles of the
critical philosophy seem to me the claims that sight and (according top.
191) hearing "in and of themselves are incapable of procuring us ideas
of things outside of us." If this were so, if it depended upon such a con-
tingent condition, namely, the number of senses Goel saw fit to endow us
with whether or not we would have ideas of things outside of us and of
space, how could these ideas be said at the same time to be necessary?
According to SCHULTZ, we procure these ideas through touch and move-
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Of Judgements
ment. "Just as someone blind from birth experiences that bodies and their
parts are ou~sicl~ of one another, in that he touches ~hem in sequence,
and in so domg 1s aware of the actual movement of hrs hand, so too we
come by the idea that what is seen is outside of and different from us only
through touch, in that we move toward the things we see one after the
other. But as the awareness that we have moved presupposes the ideas
of space and difference of place, it is clear that the perception of external
things is only made possible, for the. blind as well as for those endowed
with sight, by the idea of space, and that the idea of space is consequently I 97
a priori." A very odd explanation! The idea of space may be as a pri-
ori as you like, it still remains incomprehensible how one is supposed to
be immediately aware that one has moved oneself (i.e., one's body). For
movement is change of place, and thus can only be inferred if one recog-
nises that a body was earlier in this place and now in another. But one
cannot know a priori where a body is; rather, this must be gathered from
experience. I would also like to ask whether anyone has a sensation of
the earth moving, and indeed at the speed astronomy tells us it is? On
p. 184, we read: "With respect to our visual perception, it is not merely
sensation, but rather something based upon many comparisons and judge-
ments of the understanding." Should one gather from this that SCHULTZ
believed that the estimation of distance by means of touch is not based
upon any comparisons and judgements of the understanding, and is thus
immediate? His admission (p. 185) shows how incomplete his explana-
tion of judgements of this kind is: "Little by little, our soul completely
(?) abandons the measure of the angle of sight, and not only sketches for
itself, by means of an art unknown to us, a determinate image of the size
of distances and things close to us, but also allows the size of this image
to decrease in inverse (but difficult to discern) proportion to distance." In
my opinion, the soul not only uses the angle of sight to judge the distance
of objects, but also light and shadow, and especially the comparison of
the visual angle taken up by an object of known size with that of another
object which is connected with it (i.e., presently acting on it) in a way
which gives us reason to ascribe the same distance to both.
Note. Recently BENEKE (Psycho!. Skizzen and elsewhere) and REIN-
HOLD have undertaken investigations which would deserve to be spoken
of here, were it not for constraints of space. I will also only say a few 198
words about the view of TROXLER (in his Naturl. d. mensch!. Erk., Aa-
rau 1828): "In man as well as in animals there is a knowledge which
precedes sensible knowledge, which reveals itself through the actions we
133
 THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE§. 306.
attribute to instinct." T. claims this knowledge to be immediate. It is sup-
posed to be extracted from the so-called "subsensible or pre-senSOJ)' soul,
before the distinction between receptivity and spontaneity obtains." The
phenomena of somnambulism are supposed to be based upon this knowl-
edge. In my view the cognitions which must be presupposed to account
for instinctive acts or sleep-walking are far too complex to allow one to
assume that they arise without being derived from other judgements. By
instinct, I believe, one means not a cognitive ability, but rather the drive
and skill to carry out a certain kind of action. Thus one speaks of an in-
stinct whenever one is aware that a living being possesses both the drive
and the skill for a certain activity which is optimally calculated to reach
a goal consistent with the moral order of things, e.g., self-preservation or
reproduction; where it is obvious that the living being has no idea that its
activity is well suited to meet the goal in question, and may not even have
an idea of this goal, and in any case the activity does not stern from such
ideas. What then is the proximal cause of an instinctive action? I would
say that it lies only in the fate the being experienced in the infinite earlier
period of its existence, which must have left certain traces and obscure
memories in the soul, but principally in the wise arrangements the creator
conferred upon the organism. In these may lie the hidden ground of the
fact that on certain occasions exactly those ideas, sensations, and desires
are awakened in the soul which are required to make it act as it does.
199 Finally, concerning the phenomena of somnambulism: in my view not
everything that his been said on this score has been sufficiently proved.
The little I have been able to confirm through my own observation, how-
ever, seems to be sufficiently explained by a heightened sensitivity of the
so-called ganglia! system. A state in which no division (no difference?)
yet obtains between receptivity and spontaneity explains nothing for me,
since I don't know what to think by this.
§.306.*
Survey of the most important activities and states
of mind which concern the business ofjudging
The encl of this chapter may well be the best place to set out as briefly as
possible the most noteworthy activities and states of our mind having to
do with the business of judging. (1) A proposition M, first of all, may not
be claimed by us now, nor have been claimed by us at any earlier point
of our existence. In this case, we say that the judgement M is lacking or
134
Of Judgements
absent from our mind. This by no means requires that M has never been
found in our mind as a mere idea. We might have an idea of a proposi-
tion, e.g., that there are creatures capable to travelling from one planet to
another, without deciding anything about its truth or falsity. A judgement
can thus be absent even though the ideas required to form it are not. But
a judgement may also be absent if we have never represented or thought
about it. (2) It can also happen that we do not presently form a judgement
M, though we did at an earlier time: This is called a previously formed
judgement. In many cases, the trace left by the judgement after it dis-
appears is so constituted that it makes recalling the judgement easy, or
possible only with some effort, or possible only when an idea of it is pro- 200
ducecl by an external object, where these expressions are to be understood
like the corresponding ones for ideas explained in §289, nos. 2, 3. (3) We
do not always have to form a judgement again every time we remember
that we have formed it previously. If, however, we form the judgement
"S is P" whenever the ideas S and P are awakened in us, or whenever
the question arises in the mind whether the subject S has the attribute
p, we are said to be constantly committed to that judgement, namely, as
long as this relation between us and the judgement obtains. Since there
is no word that designates propositions of this sort, and that imputes nei-
ther truth nor falsity to them nor implies that they are held with a certain
confidence, I usually use the words "opinion" or "view". Hence by the
opinions of a being I understand propositions which this being takes to
be true, irrespective of whether they really are true, and whether this ac-
ceptance has a high or low degree of confidence. (4) A judgement is said
to be more familiar to the extent that the mere stimulation of the ideas S
and P, or the question whether p belongs to S, prompts us more quickly
to form the judgement that S is P. (5) If we raise the question whether
proposition M is true, and wish to form one of the two judgements, M or
Neg.M, but form neither of them, even though we have concentrated our
attention upon S and P, then the state of our mind with respect to M is
called doubt. (6) It often occurs that, depending upon where we focus our
attention, we form a certain judgement M and then its negation Neg .M
with the same degree of confidence, even if this be small. The mind's be- 201
haviour towards M in such cases is called vacillation. (7) Occasionally it
happens that we are committed to a judgement M for a span of time, even
though it conflicts with several other judgements R, S, ... to which we are
constantly committed. When we notice this conflict, we abandon M. This
may be called a passing fancy, a quickly abandoned thought. (8) When
135
 THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE§. 306.
we direct our attention to everything that we deem pertinent to determin-
ing whether or not a proposition M is true, one says that we examine M.
Clearly, we can resolve to examine a proposition even if we already hold
either M or Neg .M to be trne with a certain degree of confidence. If we
do so, we say that the judgement M or N eg.M is provisional with respect
to the examination. (9) A judgement formed without the required exami-
nation is called hasty, and when such a judgement is used to deduce many
others, it is called a prejudice. (l 0) When we form a judgement which we
have derived from others, but are not able to indicate these other judge-
ments (since we have not represented any of these clearly), we may call
it ajudgementfrom obscure premises. (11) When the ground which de-
termines us to form a certain judgement is so constituted that we could
hinder the formation of this judgement merely by choosing to direct our
attention to other objects, I call it voluntaty or freestanding; otherwise, I
say that it is forced. Thus the judgement that I now feel a certain warmth
202 is forced, while the judgement that the square on the hypotenuse, etc.,
like most mathematical and scientific cognitions, is voluntary. (12) If
the propositions from which a judgement M is deduced, as well as those
from which the former follow, down to the immediate judgements, are all
purely conceptual propositions, then judgement M can be called a judge-
ment from pure concepts, or pure, or a priori. In all other cases it could
be said to be drawn from experience or a posteriori. (13) When we form
a judgement merely because we recall having formed it before, I will
call it a judgement of memory. In calculation and any deduction of a
judgement from a long series of inferences, where the first inference is
lost to consciousness before the last is reached, such judgements from
memory are inevitable. But as every proposition expressing a memory
is by its very nature empirical, all judgements drawn from memory, and
hence all those derived from them, must strictly speaking be said to be
judgements of experience. In a nan-ower sense, however, judgements are
only said to be acquired from experience if we must have perceptions not
of things in our own mind, but rather of external objects in order to de-
rive them. By contrast, judgements which require no experience other
than memory may be reckoned among judgements from pure concepts.
( 14) When the cause for our having accepted a certain judgement lies in
part in the fact that someone, in order that we might accept M, gave him-
self the trouble of drawing our attention to all the reasons which might
make the proposition M either probable or certain in our eyes, and of
averting our attention from all the reasons which might lead us to form
136
Of Judgements
a different opinion, regardless of whether these reasons are correct, I say 203
that we have been persuaded to form this judgement. And if we ourselves
applied this means, I say that we have persuaded ourselves. ( 15) Just as it
is often sufficient simply to recall that we previously formed a judgement
in order to form it anew (no. 13) so too it is often enough to discover that
someone else judges or has judged thus. A judgement formed for this
reason alone may be said to be based upon the authority of another. We
make such a judgement, for instance, ·when we deem that a patient is in
danger because we see that his doctor is troubled. A special case of this
occurs when we form a judgement M because we deduce from percep-
tion that it is the will of a thinking being that we accept the proposition M
because he himself holds it to be true. An act which someone performs
with precisely the intention that we, if we follow our best insight, will
conclude from perceiving it that it is his will that we accept the proposi-
tion M, because he himself holds it to be true, is usually called testifying
in favour of this proposition. A judgement M which we form because
of such (actual or merely imagined) testimony, may be said to be based
upon testimony.
Note. It may be necessary to say a few words by way of justification
of the definitions given here. KANT, KIESEWETTER and others use the
term provisional judgement for the concept of a judgement formed with
a small degree of confidence. But we already have enough words for this
concept, while the one I described in no. 8 would remain unnamed if we
chose not to reserve this quite suitable term for it. It is indeed true that the
word prejudice is sometimes taken in a similar sense; but it is also true
that this word has its own particular meaning-and it can be reserved for
this (no. 9). Others have defined the concepts of a hasty judgement and 204
a prejudice in roughly the same way I have-e.g., ULRICH (L., §270)
and REIMARUS (§329). Ordinary usage also seems to require that correct
as well as incorrect judgements be called prejudices, if they are formed
without appropriate reasons. I also believe I have defined the concepts
of persuasion and self-persuasion (no. 14) as ordinary usage demands.
The degree of confidence with which we form a judgement is not rele-
vant here, for judgements we express with a high degree of confidence
can also arise through persuasion by others or oneself. For this reason I
did not retain the definition of KANT (L., Ak., 9.73) and others of per-
suasion as an opinion held on insufficient grounds, of which one knows
not whether they are subjective or objective. Here it is a question of the
attitude which one takes towards the grounds, rather than the grounds
137
 THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE§. 306.
themselves. According to MAAl3 (§519) persuasion is an awareness of
the truth of a proposition based upon grounds which either do not ob-
tain or from which the judgement in question does not follow. But this
is the concept of a correct judgement based upon incorrect reasons. In
FRIES' Gt: d. L., § 105, persuasion is described as the determination of a
claim according to a procedure that is formally incorrect. The mistake in
cases of persuasion certainly lies in the procedure, only this must be more
precisely indicated; for in a hasty judgement the mistake also lies in the
procedure. This difference, however, is that in the former case one errs
because one has the intention of discovering something true, while in the
latter case one is simply careless. By contrast, I will gladly to admit that
the distinction made in nos. 15 and 16 between authority and testimony
is not observed in common usage. For scientific purposes, however, th.e
distinction may not be so insignificant, as its adoption by others suggests.
Thus FRIES uses the word "authority" exactly as I do (Sy st. d. L., p. 516,
563). I take testifying in exactly the same sense it is usually taken when
understood broadly, i.e., to cover not only narratives but propositions in
general. It seems to me, though, that the definitions that have been given
for this concept are either incorrect or not sufficiently detailed. Thus
205 in KIESEWETTER' s Logik (II, § 169), we read: "Testimony is another's
statement that he believes something to be true." But if the word "state"
here simply means "express", or "present through signs", etc., then this
definition is too broad. For not every case where we give someone to
understand (whether this be intentional or not) through our action that
we hold something to be true is a case of testimony. If this flaw is to
be avoided, the word "statement" must be taken in such a peculiar sense
that it contains the entire concept of testifying. Other definitions, e.g.,
testimony is another's report of his experience, or the communication or
206 expression of what one has experienced, etc., are still less adequate.
138
PART III
Of the Relation between our Judgements and Truth
§.307.*
More precise determination (~f' the concepts:
knowledge, ignorance, and error
In this chapter the relation between our judgements and truth shall be
considered more closely. We know from §34 that among our judgements
both true and false ones are to be found. Thus it is necessary to inquire
more precisely into the origin of true as well as false judgements. The
latter inquiry is especially important in that it may show us the means
which must be applied in order to avoid error as much as possible. We
shall have to say something about the objects covered by true judgements,
and also about the limits of our knowledge. Clearly we could never form
a false judgement if we knew every truth, i.e., unless we were ignorant of
many things. Thus before entering into the question of how error arises,
we must explain how ignorance is possible. First of all, however, we must
determine the three concepts of knowledge, ignorance and error.
1) The first of these was determined in §36 only to the extent which
was then feasible and necessary. There it was said that any judgement
which accords with truth may be called a cognition [knowledge]. Taken
as a definition, this would result in too narrow a concept; for we would 207
have to deny a person knowledge of this truth at a given time if he did not
just then judge it to be a truth. This is not only contrary to accepted usage,
but also useless for scientific purposes. According to customary usage,
we ascribe knowledge, and indeed continual knowledge of a truth A to
someone, if he has formed the judgement A at some point in the past, and
if under circumstances which suffice for him to remember other judge-
ments he hasn't forgotten, he not only would be in a position to recall A,
but would still be committed to it. Thus we say that a boy already knows
100 Latin words not when he has all 100 meanings in his consciousness
simultaneously, but rather when we find that when we name any of these
words, he gives its meaning correctly. I wish to adhere to this usage:
the words recognition [KenntnijJ] and knowledge [ErkenntnijJ], however,
I consider equivalent, since whatever difference there might be between
these words is of no importance for our purposes. Thus by both of these
words we shall mean a state of mind where we have once formed a true
139
 THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE§. 307.
judgement (whose content is called the content of our knowledge) and
where we can still remember this judgement and are still committed to it
(§306, nos. 2. 3).
2) Turning now to the concepts of ignorance and error: I believe that
these apply not to mere ideas, but only to complete judgements. This
will be readily granted in the case of the word error. For although we
frequently speak of error in connection to ideas and concepts, it is imme-
diately apparent that we really have false judgements in mind. We say
that someone has incorrect concepts of certain objects when we mean to
indicate that he makes erroneous judgements about them. But does this
208 also hold of the word ignorance? Must it always be a question of truths
when we say that someone doesn't know certain concepts, or is ignorant
of them? Could we not call the lack of certain concepts ignorance of
them? I admit that this can and may occur in cases where rigorous pre-
cision is not required. But given that we already have the convenient and
sufficiently distinct expressions "lack or absence of a certain concept"
for the condition in which certain concepts have never yet been formed,
I believe that the word ignorance [ Unwissenheit, Unkunde ]-which as a
derivative of the verb to know [wissen, kennen] clearly recalls the cogni-
tive faculties and thus the power of judgement-must be applied, if we
are speaking precisely, not to mere ideas but rather to entire propositions,
to genuine judgements. It seems to me that we will be justified in calling
somebody ignorant of a certain truth A, if he does not have knowledge
of it; hence, according to no. 1, if he has never formed the judgement A,
or does not remember it, or, in any case, if, when we pose the question
whether A is true, he does not at once, and on the basis of memory alone,
agree with A. The concept of error can be defined similarly. For an error
is any false proposition to which someone is committed in the sense of
§306, no. 3, i.e., he must not only have formed the false judgement, but
also be prepared to form it again if now asked.
3) According to these definitions, in order to ascribe the knowledge
of a truth A to someone, it does not suffice to show that he holds certain
propositions from which A is deducible to be true, unless it can be taken
for certain that he will actually have performed the deduction. Still less
is it permissible to say that someone is saddled with an error A simply
209 because one has shown that he is burdened by other errors from which A
follows.
Note. The definitions given here differ from the usual ones only in
that the latter are expressed in a way which suggests that the only thing
140
Of the Relation between our Judgements and Truth
that matters in deciding whether someone knows something, is ignorant
of it, or holds the opposite error, is whether he forms a certain judgement
at the present moment. There is also no shortage of definitions which are
incorrect in other respects. Among these I reckon all those which apply
knowledge only to the existing (see, e.g., GENGLER' s Idea le d. Wiss.,
P· I). For I believe that there are also truths about objects that do not ex-
ist, e.g., truths about the attributes of other truths. RITTER (AbrijJ d. phi!.
Log., p. 145 ff.) claims that there are four possible kinds of conscious-
ness with reference to knowledge: (1) ignorance of ignorance (error);
(2) ignorance of knowledge (correct opinion); (3) knowledge of igno-
rance (doubt); and (4) knowledge of knowledge (the highest level). It
strikes me as odd to think of error, correct opinion, and doubt as kinds
or indeed levels of consciousness. Someone who errs with respect to an
object does not know it; and one who doubts a truth has no knowledge
of it. According to RITTER, if someone has not yet heard that there are
planets between Mars and Jupiter, and thus not only does not know the
details of their orbits but does not even know that he doesn't know them,
we must say he is in error concerning them. Hence a stone must be full
of errors-for it neither knows, nor knows that it doesn't know. KANT
and several others who divide truth into formal and material, also wish
ignorance and error to be similarly classified. If, as KANT does [in his
Logik (Ak., 9.44)], we now define formal ignorance as ignorance with
respect to purely conceptual truths and material ignorance as ignorance
with respect to intuitional truths, I have no objection. But if this division
were understood in the same way as the distinction between formal and
material truth, the objections made to the latter should also be applied 2 lo
here. And indeed KANT seems to have understood the classification of
error in this way, in that he defines error in the formal sense of the word
(Ak., 9.53) to be a form of thought in conflict with the understanding.
§.308.
Grounds for the possibility of ignorance in man
It is very easy to see how humans can be ignorant of many, indeed in-
finitely many, truths. For in order not to know a given truth A, it suffices
that we have either never formed it, or else not retained it in memory.
It follows directly that there must be an infinite number of truths which
we humans do not know. For otherwise our cognitive powers 1 would
1Reading Erkenntniskraji for Einbildungskrqft (ed.).
141
 THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE§. 308. Of the Relation between our Judgements and Truth

have to be infinite. It may not be superfluous to go into particulars here §.309.*

and consider the various kinds of ignorance. Truths we do not know ar~
sometimes such that even the ideas they are composed of are lacking in Grounds for the possibility of err01; and circumstances promoting error
our minds; sometimes this is not the case. Thus the truth that there are
1) It is much more difficult to explain how error arises. We can consider
five regular solids is unknown to someone who has never looked into
the difficulty we encounter in this undertaking to be another proof of the
geometry in the first way, since he has never even formed the subject-
magnitude of our ignorance. We make so many errors, and still, in many
concept, that of a regular solid. By contrast, the truth that every fixed
cases, we cannot explain how the error came about; worse than that, we
star is much larger than the moon may well be unknown to many who
can hardly explain how error is possible at all. All our judgements are ei-
do possess the concepts of which it is composed. It is obvious why a
ther immediate, or derived from others. Hence the question is in which of
truth must remain unknown to us as long as we lack the ideas of which
these two cases error can occur. None of the judgements formed without
it is composed. It is more difficult to understand how a truth can remain
the mediation of others can reasonably be suspected of being mistaken;
unknown to us when its subject- and predicate-ideas are in our mind, per-
for if we wanted to doubt one of them, we should have to doubt them all,
211 haps even active at the same time, and compared with one another with
since they all come about in the same way. But if we wanted to doubt
the intention of discovering whether they can be united in a judgement.
all immediate judgements, we should also have to doubt all derived ones;
In order to find this comprehensible, one must consider the following. All
hence we should have to doubt all our judgements, which is absurd. Thus
of our judgements come about in one of two ways: either we form them
we can reasonably look for error only in those judgements that are de-
immediately, i.e., we are not moved to form them through others from
rived from others. But how can it occur even here? According to §300,
which they are deducible; or else we derive them from other judgements.
we should not assume that the mode of inference by which we derive
It cannot be claimed that we are in a position to recognise immediately
some of our judgements from others is erroneous, unless it is a rule we
whether a proposition is true or false every time the ideas of which it is
have formulated, i.e., a judgement. But if all our immediate judgements
composed enter our consciousness. For though it is definitely true that
are correct, and if the modes of inference by which we derive mediated
we could not be aware that we possess certain ideas a, b, c, d, ... if we had
judgements from them are all valid, how do erroneous judgements occur?
not distinguished them, and thus formed a judgement concerning them,
2) I can only think of one way in which this might happen. According
yet it is not necessary that we recognise the truth or falsity of every com-
to what was said in §§300 and 301 there are inferences of probability, i.e.,
bination of them. It is still more comprehensible why the truth of all
inferences where the conclusion merely states that a certain proposition
propositions we have to deduce from others is not obvious as soon as
M has a greater or lesser degree of probability. Moreover, our soul, on 213
the ideas of which they are composed appear in our mind. For this, two
account of its finitude, is obliged to hold this proposition to be true, i.e.,
things are required: the propositions from which they are deducible must
to form the judgement M, with a degree of confidence proportionate to
all be before the mind at the same time, and our soul must have the ability
the probability. But as a proposition which is probable need not always
to derive the conclusion from these premises. Either of these conditions
be true, it is clear how the soul, in elevating all the propositions with
could be absent. Even if all of these premises are known to us, we might
a high degree of probability to judgements, can sometimes err. Enw
not be thinking of some of them at present; or, though we think of them, a
arises whenever it happens that something which we have recognised as
lack of attention or inferential ability may prevent us from recognising the
probable, following perfectly correct rules of inference, and which we
conclusion that follows from them. We cannot notice all the conclusions
expect and take to be true, turns out to be false.
that follow from given premises, for our powers of inference are finite,
3) I hope no one will object that according to this definition it is not an
and the number of consequences infinite. And depending upon how well
error when, following correct rules, we expect with mere probability that
developed the power of inference, one person may be aware of more of
something will happen which in the end doesn't. What error would there
212 these consequences than another.
be in a mathematician saying that the probability of randomly drawing a
black ball from an urn containing one white and 99 black balls ?to? The

142 143
 THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE§. 309.
error does not lie in the proposition which states the degree of probability
of such a judgement, but only in the judgement itself. We do not eIT when
we estimate that the degree of probability that a black ball will appear is
~ .
= 100 , but only when we e.tpect the appearance of a black ball (on the
basis of this estimate or for some other reason). We do not err here by
choice, but rather are obliged to, in that it is necessary for us to expect the
far more probable appearance of a black rather than a white ball under
these circumstances.
4) Since, as I have said, I cannot find any other comprehensible way
in which errors could creep into our judgements, it seems to me that the
only source of errors lies in the just-mentioned peculiarity of our fac-
214 ulty of judgement, namely, that it raises merely probable propositions
to judgements. If this explanation is correct, it follows: (a) that all and
only beings which must maintain judgements of probability are exposed
to the clanger of error; (b) that only in the part of our judgements which
we derive by probable inferences, and thus form not with certainty, but
only with a greater or lesser degree of confidence, are errors to be found;
(c) that every error is a proposition standing in a certain relation of prob-
ability to the remaining propositions which are taken to be true by the be-
ing who is in error. The appearance of truth [Wahrscheinlichkeit] which
every error possesses is usually called illusion [Schein] or illusoriness
[Scheinbarkeit]. This illusoriness may stem from propositions which are
all true, but also from other incoITect ones. In the former case, one speaks
of original, in the latter of derivative error.
5) It is well known that the first judgements for which we inevitably
make use of judgements of probability are the so-called judgements of
experience. The realm of experience is accordingly the domain where
error first and inevitably dwells. But etrnrs may also creep into purely
conceptual judgements, when we are somehow forced or prompted to
make use of probability judgements in their derivation. This is the case
in particular for all judgements which draw on memory (§306, no. 13);
consequently, the danger of error extends to all judgements based upon
long series of inferences, no matter of what kind. For we arrive at these
by means of premises, some of which are merely drawn from memory.
6) The above makes the origin of error comprehensible in general
terms. But for the purpose of formulating rules for the avoidance of er-
215 ror, it is all but useless. For this we must try to acquaint ourselves with
the most important circumstances favouring the origin of errors, for it
is often though not always in our power to avoid these. The principal
144
Of the Relation between our Judgements and Truth
causes are, I believe, the following: (a) ignorance is d~u~tless_ the_most
fecund mother of error. For regardless of the fact that it 1s an mev1table
condition of all error (because we cannot err with respect to something
which is already known to us), it contains the reason why a false propo-
.tion often has a very high degree of probability in our eyes, and why
s1
we claim it with great confidence. From ignorance we do not know all
the cases which have an equal relative probability under given circum-
stances, and consequently estimate the probability of one of them to be
much higher than it really is. Thus, for instance, before the discovery of
Saturn's rings, people must have thought quite confidently that all planets
were spherical. (b) Another cause for error lies in the inappropriate di-
rection of our attention. For according to whether we direct our attention
to these or those ideas arising in us, different sequences of ideas become
active in us. And because this circumstance has the greatest influence on
the character of the new judgements we form, it is quite comprehensible
that we can be prompted by this to claim many things when, under differ-
ent circumstances, we would have claimed the opposite. A truth we do
not recall at the moment (because our attention is directed elsewhere) has
such a small effect that it may as well have been completely unknown.
Thus one who doesn't recall that two straight lines need not lie in the
same plane might well claim that two lines which do not meet must be
parallel. (c) Similarly, the accidental association of our ideas clue to the
law of simultaneity can lead to thousands of errors. For this association 216
is the cause why one or another idea or previously formed judgement
comes to mind, and why our attention is directed to this or that object,
etc. (cl) From this it is obvious that many errors are clue to an unfaith-
ful memory as well as to an imagination that is either too feeble or else
overactive. For a memory which is unreliable leads us to forget truths we
should bear in mind, and a feeble imagination does not lend the strength
to recalled ideas which is necessary for them to be combined in a judge-
ment. An overactive imagination, finally, lends such vividness to some of
our ideas that others, which do not accord with the former, cannot even
enter our consciousness. (e) Our own will plays a great role in the origin
of, perhaps, most of the errors we humans make, in that, either with or
without the determinate intention to deceive ourselves, we pay heed only
to the reasons that speak for a given proposition and ignore those speak-
ing against it. Thus the well-known phenomenon that we mostly believe
exactly what appeals to our passions, and reject what would prevent their
satisfaction. This is the reason why the opinions of one and the same man
145
 THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE§. 309.
change as often as his inclinations and needs. (t) Once we have made
an incorrect judgement, we are in peril of repeating it in the future. For
if in the past something appeared to be thus and so, we presume it will
appear so on another occasion if we again consider the reasons which led
us to form the judgement in the first place. For this reason, we usually
do not even consider these reasons again. But even if we do weigh the
proposition again, it is to be feared that the same unnoticed associations
217 of ideas which led us to err in the first place will again give rise to the
same faulty conclusion. And the more often this occurs, the longer we
have adhered to a certain opinion, the stronger is our trust in it, and the
harder it is to for us to change our mind. (g) Errors not only get repeated,
but also usually lead us to commit other errors. For it is well known that
many, indeed infinitely many propositions are deducible from every false
proposition; so it is not surprising that holding one incorrect opinion soon
leads us to hold many others. How many errors would we fall into if, for
instance, we made the fundamental mistake of thinking that the highest
moral law was to increase our own happiness! (h) The association of our
ideas with signs, be these either imagined or actual (e.g., written) cer-
tainly does a great deal to facilitate thought. In certain cases, however, it
can also be the cause of errors. This may occur because every sign, which
is itself an idea and as such is associated with various other ideas, can also
produce the latter and can therefore produce a sequence of ideas which
influence our thinking; but also because we confuse similar signs which
designate utterly different ideas, with the result that, instead of simply
repeating a previously formed judgement, we replace it with something
essentially different; and finally because a given sign is often ambiguous
and we pass from one of its meanings to another without noticing. An
example of the influence a name of a thing may have on the sequence
of ideas which are activated in us, and thus on the judgements we form,
may be found in every name which gives rise to an associated meaning.
An example of an error arising from the confusion of similar signs may
218 be found in every error of calculation arising from the confusion of two
similar numerals. An example, finally, of an error caused by ambiguity
is given by the claim that divine revelation is impossible, where one at-
tempts to demonstrate this impossibility by claiming on the one hand that
such a revelation would have to be instruction given to us immediately by
God and on the other hand that we have no criterion which would allow
us to distinguish the immediate from the mediate effects of God. Here
one overlooks that fact that the word immediate is taken in two different
146
Of the Relation between our Judgements and Truth
senses in these sentences; first in the sense according to which not all,
but only means of a certain kind may be applied, and then in the strict
sense which excludes any and all mediation. (i) As beneficial as it is for
the development of our understanding that we grow up not alone but in
the company of other rational beings who communicate their views to us
from the start, it cannot be denied that we are also led by this to commit
many errors. For in our youth we accept almost everything that others
say to us without examining it ourselves, and indeed without even being
capable of examining it, including a great many things they are mistaken
about or concerning which they deceive us. When in later years we be-
come able to correct many of these opinions, we often still fail to do so,
on account of our laziness, because these opinions are pleasing to us, or
because we have grown so accustomed to them that we cannot easily be
convinced that they are incorrect. Thus students often adhere to the errors
of their teachers, and the same error may be spread among entire peoples
and ages.
§.310.
Other treatments of the same subject
The way that I explained the origin of error in the previous § is not so new
and different from previous accounts, and many others have said quite 219
similar things. Indeed, the common remark that all error is based upon
appearance [Schein] points to propositions which are merely probable
[Wahrscheinlich] as the essential source of e1rnr. The account of FRIES
(Syst. d. L., p. 480ff.) comes especially close to the account presented
above: "Every error," he says expressly, "is based upon the premises of
a probable inference." The factors which I have indicated as conducive
to errors are also enumerated more or less completely in every Logic;
only it seems that people have not recognised clearly enough that these
factors in and of themselves do not constitute a complete explanation of
the way that errors may occur. Let us then present and examine the most
important previous accounts.
1) The dispute of the ancient Greek philosophers on this subject is
famous: while some of them, namely, those of the ELEATIC school and
the PLATONISTS, claimed that all error stemmed from the senses, others,
especially the EPICUREANS, claimed that all errors came from the under-
standing. To a certain extent, this dispute hasn't been cleared up even in
our days. Nothing is resolved with the remark that the senses cannot de-
ceive, because they do not judge, for here the words "senses" is obviously
147
 THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE§. 310.
taken in a different meaning than it is when used by XENOPHANES, PAR-
MENIDES, et al., when they claim the senses to be the source of all error.
In a certain interpretation, one might claim that neither party was wrong.
For it is correct to say that only the senses deceive, if this is taken to mean
that only know ledge based upon the testimony of the senses, either essen-
tially or accidentally (the latter case covering memories) is exposed to the
danger of error. It is no less correct to say that only the understanding errs,
220 while the senses do not lie, if by the judgements based upon the senses
one only means immediate judgements of perception, and counts all other
judgements (as is fair) among the judgements of the understanding.
2) Several philosophers of ancient as well as modern times saw no
other way to explain the origin of error than as a mere misuse of free tvil!.
This, as is well known, was the view of DESCARTES, MALEBRANCHE,
BERKELEY, and in our times is maintained by TIEFTRUNK and others.
KLEIN (Ansch. u. Denki., §272) says expressly: "The ultimate ground
of all errors lies in the free will, since the mere limitations of the mind,
though they may be the cause of ignorance, cannot be the cause of er-
ror. Our innate striving towards knowledge of things, and our inability to
know everything we desire, determine the soul, which is free, to expand
the bounds by means of invented ideas, and to take these imaginings for
true pictures of objects." I do not find this account satisfactory, for it does
not explain how it happens that our soul takes these invented ideas for
true pictures of objects. That it does so merely because it wills to does
not follow, at least not directly. For it is certainly false to say that the
power of judgement depends upon the will in the sense that it is in a po-
sition to form any judgement the will desires-as is shown most clearly
by the reproaches of one's conscience.
3) LOCKE (Ess., IV, 2, § 17 and 20, § 1) already found occasion to
remark that most errors are based on faulty memories; and Count DE
TRACY (ldeol., III, 3 and 4) goes so far as to claim that the only source
of our errors is the imperfection of our memories (l'impe1jection de nos
souvenirs). It is quite right in my opinion to claim that a great many of
our errors, even in fields based not on experience but on mere concepts,
are actually due to memory; but it is not obvious to me why errors should
221 arise only in this way, nor how merely pointing to the imperfection of
memory is supposed to provide a complete explanation of the origin of
even a single error. The question still persists of how the imperfection of
memory, i.e., the difference between a renewed and the original idea, pro-
duces an erroneous judgement. And this question can only be answered
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Of the Relation between our Judgements and Truth
by saying that the soul will be led by the altered nature of the renewed
idea to conclude, by means of a correct, but only probable and hence oc-
casionally misleading, rule, that the original idea was constituted exactly
as the imagination now portrays it to be.
4) KANT (L., Ak, 9.53 ff.; cf. K. d. 1: V., A293/B349 ff.) and his
followers encounter great difficulty in explaining the possibility of what
they call formal errors (see above, §307, note), "for it is incomprehensi-
ble how a given power may depart from its own essential laws." Here I
would like to ask if simultaneously holding two contrary propositions to
be true should always be called a formal error. If this is the case, then
I would say that the origin of formal errors is no more unusual than the
formation of any material error. For it holds of any false proposition that
it conflicts with certain others which are true. But if we do not notice this
conflict, it cannot in any way prevent us from accepting this false propo-
sition. And for this conflict to remain unnoticed, it is in no way necessary
that the proposition conflicting with the false one remain unknown to us.
Rather, it can also happen that we recognise it, and indeed think both
propositions at the same time, and hold both to be true, as thousands of
examples show. But even if by a formal error one only meant taking an
incorrect rule of inference to be valid, a formal error would still be no 222
more difficult to understand than any other. It is true that the incorrect-
ness of a false rule of inference is usually easily detected by applying it
to various examples. But when someone does not undertake this exami-
nation, or if he is unlucky in his choice of examples, only picking such as
do not reveal the flaw, it is quite possible for a false rule to appear correct
to him for a time; and have not many logicians themselves encountered
this? But if (as KANT seems actually to have understood things) a formal
error is only supposed to be one we commit because we proceed accord-
ing to a false rule of inference which we have not ourselves constructed,
then no one has ever shown that there are such errors; and I believe that
there cannot be any such. According to KANT, this difficulty arises be-
cause the understanding does not work alone to produce our judgements,
but another power, namely, sensibility, also plays a role; accordingly, "the
incorrect judgement should be considered as the diagonal, so to speak, of
two forces. The influence of sensibility causes us to take merely subjec-
tive grounds for objective ones, and consequently to confuse truth with
the mere semblance of truth." 1 To my mind, this account leaves unex-
plained how it comes about that merely subjective grounds are taken for
1
Kant says something similar at KrV, A294-295/B350-35 I (ed.).
149
 THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE§. 310.
objective, and how the mere semblance of truth and truth itself (or the sub-
jective and the objective) are confused. For to take one thing for another
is already a judgement, and indeed a false one, an error. Thus the possi-
bility of error cannot be explained in this way. It is also noteworthy that
accordinab to KANT' s views our entire cognitive faculties are constituted
precisely so as to lead us to err. The pure concepts of the understand-
ing (categories) and the a priori principles of the understanding founded
upon them lead us into error as soon as we apply them to supersensible
things. The concepts of reflection of the faculty of judgement give rise
223 to errors, as soon as we apply them to intuitions in the way we apply
them to concepts. The Ideas grounded in reason, finally, produce errors
whenever we use them constitutively rather than regulatively. Of the last,
we read in the Critique of Pure Reason (A297/B353): "In our reason
there are fundamental rules and maxims governing their use, which com-
pletely resemble objective principles, and through which it happens that
the subjective necessity of a certain combination of our concepts, for the
benefit of reason, is taken to be an objective necessity of the determina-
tion of things in themselves. This illusion cannot be avoided, no more
so than, e.g., an astronomer can avoid the moon appearing larger when
rising, even though he is not deceived by this appearance." It seems to
me that it is already sufficiently clear from what has been said previously
(§§ 119, 279, note) that the distinction between the so-called categories,
concepts of reflection, and Ideas, as well as the claims limiting the use of
these concepts, are entirely based upon incorrect assumptions; more will
be said on the subject later. The origin of so-called sense illusions has
already been explained (§303). But if it were true that the Ideas of God,
of a universe, and the like necessarily led to errors as soon as we suppose
that certain objects correspond to them, then this would be a truly inex-
plicable phenomenon, unless we assumed that contradictions were to be
met with within our reason itself. Before we assume this, let us sooner
believe that these contradictions lie within our systems!
5) Several logicians, e.g., CROUSAZ, ULRICH (Inst., §271), JAKOB
(L., §433), METZ (L., 237), GERLACH (L., §238), CALKER (L., 232)
teach that error is based upon a kind of haste. I would not venture to
claim this myself. For how could one accuse an astronomer of haste
when, after the most careful calculations, he forms the judgement that in a
hundred years there will be a lunar eclipse on such and such a day, and the
224 eclipse does not occur only because in the meantime (something which
could not have been foreseen) a comet appears and changes the path of
150
Of the Relation between our Judgements and Truth
our satellite by a few dozen miles? His judgement was false, but for all
his attentiveness it could not have been otherwise; even if the possibility
of such a perturbation by a comet had occurred to him, he would have
to have found it so improbable that he could not have prevented himself
[rom forming his judgement (albeit with a degree of confidence which is
not the highest of all).
6) RITTER has his own account of the origin of en-or (L., p. 146 ff.)
According to him every error is based upon invention and hypothesis. I
cannot agree-for where is the invention when we expect, in accordance
with all the rules of probability, that a ball drawn at random from an urn
containing 99 black and one white will be black? Yet as is well known,
we can be mistaken in this expectation, and the white one can appear.
According to RITTER, furthermore, all error is caused by a voluntary
withdrawal of attention, so that there are no innocent mistakes. But this
is already refuted by the example just cited. Although I too believe that
every error is a mere judgement of probability, and thus is never formed
with the complete confidence which, e.g., immediate judgements enjoy,
I nevertheless would not claim along with R. that conviction in cases of
error never equals that of cases of knowledge, if this is supposed to mean
that the confidence with which we form an incorrect judgement is always
less than that with which we form a true one. If, for instance, we had
placed 51 black and 49 white balls in that urn, we would still judge that a
black one would be drawn. This judgement would be formed with much
less confidence than the previous one. Yet chance might make the latter
true and the former false. 225
§.311.*
Origin of true judgements. Understanding and reason
1) From the preceding theory of the origin of error it follows by mere
opposition how our true judgements, which also bear the name of cog-
nitions, arise. First of all, those of our judgements which are formed
without mediation must be true, as must those which are deduced from
such immediate judgements by inferences that are not inferences of prob-
ability. By the very way in which they are produced, these judgements
are secure from the danger of error. Secondly, many judgements formed
in other ways may also be true, in particular, judgements deduced from
those of the first kind by mere probabilistic inferences, or judgements
obtained by perfect inferences from other false judgements. For merely
151
 THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE§. 3 l l.
probable judgements can be true sometimes, and true conclusions may
be derived from false premises. These two sorts of origin of true judge-
ments are essentially different. The first produces only true judgements,
while the second only produces many true judgements. The former may
be called the necessmy sort of origin of true judgements, the latter contin-
gent. For it follows from the concept of the first sort that all judgements
arising in this way are true, while this is not the case for the second sort.
The necessary sort of origin may be further divided into an immediate
origin, responsible for the occurrence of immediate cognitions, and a me-
diate sort, which gives rise to mediated cognitions. The contingent sort is
always mediate.
2) This seems the most appropriate place to define the concepts that
226 ordinary usage connects with the words understanding and reason; for
there is no dispute that these words do not mean an ability to produce
judgements in general, whether they be true or false, but rather only a
faculty for producing true or probable judgements. For if we hear that
someone has formed a judgement which is neither true nor probable, we
do not ascribe it either to his reason or to his understanding, but rather to
the want or non-use of these powers, i.e., to his lack of understanding or
unreasonableness. It is equally certain that we rank reason higher than
understanding, as may be gauged by the fact that we attribute reason to
the most perfect being, God, without hesitation, while we have misgiv-
ings about attributing understanding to Him, and do so only on pain of
contradiction. In addition, we find the true superiority of humans over
animals not in the possession of understanding, which we are inclined to
accord to the more developed animals as well, but rather in reason. If now
we recall the important division of truths into conceptual and intuitional
propositions, we can hardly refrain from counting all purely conceptual
truths among the cognitions of reason. For even such an easy and sim-
ple conceptual truth as the well-known principle of sufficient reason [Satz
vom Grunde] we ascribe not to the understanding, but to reason, and do
so with such firmness that in many languages we take the name for reason
(ratio) from this proposition; to all appearance because the first expres-
sion of awakening reason is to inquire everywhere into grounds. But if
we call the power of arriving at the knowledge of purely conceptual truths
reason, the understanding is left with the responsibility for the production
of our sensible cognitions. Yet we do not give the name of truths of the
understanding to all truths which contain a sensible constituent, i.e., an
intuition. Thus, for example, we usually do not say that the sublime truths
152
Of the Relation betiveen our Judgements and Truth
of astronomy are mere products of the understanding. Rather, we usually
describe their discovery as a work by which human reason has most en-
nobled itself. Should we then only ascribe to the understanding the em- 227
pirical cognitions obtainable without the mediation of purely conceptual
truths? But then only the so-called immediate judgements of perception
would count as products of the understanding; and that sugar is sweet
and gall bitter would have to be counted as truths of reason, since they
are derived from immediate perception only through the mediation of the
principle of sufficient reason. I do not think that we are too far removed
from common usage if we define understanding as the capacity for em-
pirical cognitions, which may require the mediation of purely conceptual
truths, but where we do not have to be conscious of these truths. On the
other hand, any truth which requires for its derivation the clear recogni-
tion of a purely conceptual truth is justly attributed to reason, even if it
also requires a perceptual premise. This also allows us to explain (in a
manner similar to that described above for reason) how the understand-
ing came by its Latin name (intellectus). For the first phenomenon which
points to a greater measure of this Goel-given power in the growing child
than in the most developed animals is that he begins to understand (hu-
man) speech.
Note. The explanation of E. REINHOLD (Psycho!., p. 142) is very
similar. By contrast if, as so often happens, people call the faculty of
concepts the unclerstancling, I remind them that the understanding also
forms judgements, and that constructing appropriate concepts may re-
quire knowledge of a great many purely conceptual truths. Nor do I
understand how, on these accounts, one could ascribe Ideas [ldeen] to
reason, when these are only a particular kind of concept. If one defines
reason as the highest cognitive activity, it will first be necessary, it seems
to me, to explain what a higher cognitive operation is, and which activi-
ties should be counted among the highest, which among the lower. Every 228
truth deduced from another is in a certain sense produced by a higher ac-
tivity than that which produced the latter. Accordingly, the highest activ-
ity would only be exercised on a truth from which nothing further may be
cleclucecl-but are there any such things? Others (e.g., FR. SCHLEGEL),
as is well known, see the relation between understanding and reason in
exactly the opposite way. This also applies in a certain measure to all
those who look upon the understanding as the faculty of reflection or of
voluntmy control, and of mediate repetition of immediate cognitions (of
reason); e.g., FRIES, SCHMID, et al. The derivation of this word from
153
 THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE§. 312.
understand indeed speaks strongly in favour of this definition; against
it, however, speaks the fact that we ascribe a great deal of understand-
ing even to people who do not know how to make the grounds of their
judgements distinct, provided that they make many correct judgements
(concerning objects of experience). According to TROXLER's Logik (I,
p. 104) reason is "the higher unity of understanding and feeling, the inter-
mediary between the senses and the mind, very much like experience, dif-
fering from it only in that experience is directed towards the outer world
and reason towards the inner." Understanding, for its part, stands "be-
tween reason and experience as the purely logical and dialectical power
which mediates between the mind and the senses, etc." I confess my in-
ability to grasp such definitions.
§.312.
Whether we can recognise a truth without recognising its grounds
If what was said above (§203) about the concept of a ground is correct,
then the ground of a truth is always either another truth or a collection
of several truths, and thus an object of our cognitive faculties. It will be
readily understood that recognition and consideration of the ground quite
naturally gives rise to the recognition of the consequence; indeed, one
might surmise that we never know a consequence except from its ground.
229 It is therefore worth the trouble to look into this, i.e., to raise the question
of whether it is possible for us to recognise a truth without having pre-
viously recognised the ground upon which it rests, i.e., the one or more
truths of which it is a consequence. If (as is often imagined) every truth
had its own ground, then the mere fact that we form immediate judge-
ments, which all belong to the class of true judgements, would already tell
us that we are in a position to recognise truths without having previously
recognised their ground. For the truths we recognise immediately would
also have a ground, and yet not be recognised by means of this ground.
But according to §215 there are truths which have no ground, so that the
above argument fails, unless I also show that some of the truths we recog-
nise immediately are not of the sort which do not have grounds. Now this
can be shown quite easily for the part of our immediate judgements which
belong to the class of perceptual judgements. For a truth of the form "I
have the idea or sensation A" cannot be among the truths which have no
further ground; rather, just as my own existence and the fact that I now
have precisely these ideas, sensations, etc., must have a cause, so too the
154
Of the Relation between our Judgements and Truth
truth stating the presence of these ideas and sensations in me must have
a ground. It is no less obvious that all the cognitions we gain through
mere probabilistic inferences (and thus contingently) do not spring from
the previous knowledge of their ground. For when we form a judgement
M by means of a probabilistic inference, we take M to be true merely
because we recognise that it has a determinate degree of probability with
respect to assumptions A,B,C,D, ... which we hold to be true. But the
around of a truth can never lie in such mere probabilities. Given that 230
Cl
judgements of experience are as such always recognised through proba-
bilistic judgements, it holds in general of this part of our cognitions that
we obtain them without first having learned their grounds. The question
may also be raised with respect to conceptual truths. Here we are not
concerned with purely conceptual truths which we discover through mere
probabilistic inferences, but rather with those we discover without any
probabilistic inferences, or at most only those which are used in recalling
previously recognised conclusions so that we may use them as premises.
If it were the case that all purely conceptual truths which we recognised
in this way, i.e., purely by means of perfect inferences, were recognised
through their grounds, then all the conceptual truths which we recognised
immediately would have to be basic truths. We may leave it undecided
whether all the purely conceptual truths which we recognise immediately
are basic truths. But in order to say that all truths which recognise through
inference (even perfect inferences) are recognised through their grounds,
it would have to be the case that in every perfect inference the premises
are related to the conclusion as grounds to consequence. This is, I be-
lieve, not so. Only the tiniest portion of our inferences are constituted
in a way which would justify our looking upon their premises, whenever
they become true, as the genuine ground of the truth of their conclusion.
How else could it be that we arrive at one and the same conclusion in
such diverse ways, given that there is only one objective ground of any
individual truth (as seems to be the case according to §206)? Certainly,
then, it is not always the case that when we recognise a conceptual truth,
even by means of perfect inferences, we do so with the aid of a previous 231
recognition of its ground. Rather, it most often occurs that we know the
consequence, yet do not know the truths that constitute its ground, or at
least do not know that they are its ground.
155
 THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE§. 313. 314.
§.313.
Grounds for the recognition of truth
If we do not form a judgement M immediately, but rather deduce it from
other (true or false) judgements A,B,C,D, ... , then the latter are the
cause of the former. Now if the judgement M is true, and thus merits to
be called a cognition, the judgements A, B, C, D, ... , in which lie the
cause of the origin of this cognition, may properly be called the cause of
the recognition of the truth M. From this it follows immediately that not
every truth has such a ground. Our immediate judgements are true, and
thus deserve to be called cognitions, but there is no ground of their recog-
nition, i.e., no collection of judgements from which they are deduced.
It also follows from this definition that the ground for the recognition
of a truth does not always have to be a collection consisting entirely of
truths. False judgements may also sometimes lead to true conclusions,
and thus provide the occasion for the origin of a cognition. Finally, it
is clear that the ground of recognition of a truth should by no means be
confused with the ground of the truth in the sense of § 198. For even in
the case where the ground for recognition of a truth consists entirely of
truths, it is not necessary (as pointed out in the previous section) that these
truths must be precisely the ones which constitute the genuine ground of
232 the truth that one has deduced. Sometimes, however, this can occur, so
it will be permissible to distinguish two kinds of grounds of recognition:
those which consist in the truths that are the genuine (or objective) ground
of the recognised truth, and those where this is not the case. Allow me
to call the former objective, and the latter merely subjective grounds of
knowledge.
§.314.
Whether there are definite limits to our cognitive faculty
1) The thought that there are infinitely many truths, but that we as finite
beings are only in a position to know finitely many of them, leads quite
naturally to the question of whether there are definite limits to our cogni-
tive faculty and, if so, whether we might be able to indicate them. Before
answering this question, we must first say more precisely what we mean
by such limits of our ability to know and their determination. Usually
156
Of the Relation between our Judgements and Truth
when we speak of indicating the limits of a power we simply mean cer-
tain propositions that truly state what this power is capable and incapable
of accomplishing.
Such indications may be called complete if they permit the determi-
nation of everything that this power can and cannot accomplish, and in-
complete or partial if they only determine some things the power either
can or cannot do. According to this, we mean by an indication of cer-
tain limits of our cognitive faculty nothing other than certain propositions
which truly state what we are able or unable to know. A little reflection
shows, however, that this concept requires further refinement. For since
every judgement that accords with truth is called a cognition, even if this 233
accord is accidental or was the effect of previous errors, it is clear that
the limits of our cognitive faculty would be vacillating if one adhered to
the broad definition given above. For mere chance or even an error might
extend these limits. Thus we would not be able to deny, for example,
that even the most ignorant man has the ability to know the nature of the
inhabitants of Mars or Venus, etc. For could it not happen that for some
reason or other (e.g., like Ennemoser's clairvoyant wife) he labours un-
der the delusion that he can make judgements on such matters, and one
of them just chances to be true? Truths such as these, recognised through
error, should certainly not be counted when we intend to determine the
limits of our cognitive faculty. Here we require propositions which state
what kinds of truths we can or cannot arrive at, not by chance, but rather
in a rule-governed way. But such limits can be quite diverse. They would
be complete if they completely determined the collection of truths we can
recognise, as well as the collection of those which we cannot, and other-
wise incomplete. They might specify these collections by indicating one
characteristic or another, something which can affect their usefulness for
certain ends. It is also obvious that the determination of these limits will
be different depending upon whether we consider the cognitive faculties
of single individuals or those of mankind in general; and upon whether
we speak of factors which hold only in the present, during our entire life
on earth, for all humanity in all future centuries, or for all finite beings in
the universe. 234
2) When we attempt to determine the limits of our own cognitive fac-
ulties or those of humanity as a whole, it becomes clear that this cannot
be accomplished by explicitly enumerating all the truths which a single
individual or mankind as a whole cannot attain. For in order to do so, they
would have to be known to us rather than unknown. Generally, when we
157
 THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE§. 314.
attempt to distinctly specify the goal for the sake of which we wish to
present the determination of the limits of our cognitive faculty in a trea-
tise of logic, we find (it seems to me) that this only happens because we
wish to provide a means which can be used by someone embarking on an
inquiry of some sort or another to decide beforehand whether answering
his questions would be beyond his cognitive abilities-in which case we
not only save him from the futile effort the inquiry would involve, but
also free him from the danger of going wrong in his inquiries.
3) Given this specific goal, one gathers that many determinations,
which may be quite correct and useful for other ends, are useless here.
Thus, for example, it would be a true determination of the limits of our
knowledge, well worth taking to heart, to say that we are able to know
only as much as is beneficial for us. But how useless this determination
would be for the present purpose!
4) From the indicated goal it also follows that a determination of the
limits of our cognitive faculty which was only valid for the present or the
past, i.e., if it only taught us what we could not know at present, would
be of no use. For from the fact that we have been so far unable to know
a cetiain truth, it by no means follows that it will be impossible to do so
in the future. A determination which can be used for our goal must also
be valid for the future: it must mark out a class of truths as being beyond
235 our capacity to know not only at present, but for the entire future of our
existence, at least while we are still human.
5) Given that these truths cannot be explicitly enumerated, the first
thing that might occur to us is to indicate that there are objects of which
we can know nothing. Determinations of limits of this kind would then
consist of propositions of the following kind: "Every object which falls
under idea A is beyond our know ledge" or (what comes to the same thing)
"We can recognise no truth of the form 'A is X' ." But who can fail to see
that such a claim is absurd? We know something of every object, at least
what it has in common, qua object, with all other objects. Moreover, the
statement that we cannot know anything about this object is itself a judge-
ment about it; hence it is actually a contradiction to say of an object that
we cannot know it at all, i.e., that we cannot form a single true judgement
about it. One might reply that in saying that we do not know this object,
we do not mean that we are ignorant of absolutely all its properties and
that we cannot even form a single judgement about it. I accept this, but I
should like to ask now for a more definite identification of the attributes
that must be unrecognisable if the object is to be called unknown. If one
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Of the Relation between our Judgements and Truth
wants to say that an object is unknown if we are incapable of indicating
any of the attributes which are proper to it, I reply that even on this defini-
tion there are no completely unknown objects. For already the idea A un-
der which we comprehend the object, expresses a proper attribute, in that
the attribute a is certainly one which belongs only to the objects standing
under A. Thus we must interpret the given definition more narrowly; one 236
would have to say, perhaps, that an object is said to be unknown if we are
unable to indicate any of its proper attributes which do not already lie in
its idea. In order to fix limits to our cognitive faculty in this way, one
would have to set out one or more propositions of the following form:
"None of the objects standing under the idea A has an attribute which be-
longs exclusively to these objects, is knowable by us humans, and does
not lie in the idea A itself." But as there is nothing impossible in an object
having attributes which do not lie in its idea (§64), and it cannot be denied
that humans have the ability to recognise such attributes, i.e., to form true
synthetic judgements ( § 197), it is obvious that the truth of such a propo-
sition could only be proven by appealing to the particular constitution of
the idea A. For my part, I confess that I know of no such peculiarity of
certain ideas. Indeed, it seems to me that a proposition of this form would
be self-refuting. For if the idea A is not such that what is stated of it in
this proposition is already contained in it (in which case the proposition
would be a measly tautology), then the judgement set out here is already
of the kind it denies we can have.
6) The second thing that might occur to us is expressly to indicate
the propositions which are so constituted that our cognitive faculties will
be forever incapable of deciding whether or not they are true. But how
hard it would be to prove claims of this sort! The fact that we have so far
not been able to decide whether attribute b belongs to the objects which
stand under the idea A does not entitle us to conclude that we will never
find grounds for such a decision. In order to see the difficulty which arises 237
here more clearly, let us consider the two cases which may occur, depend-
ing upon whether A and b are pure concepts or mixed ideas. Suppose the
former, i.e., a case of recognising a purely conceptual truth. Here, admit-
tedly, no experiment of any kind that we might petform will help to decide
the question, at least if the kind of knowledge which does not allow the
possibility of error is required. But who could want to claim that even a
very lengthy consideration of the two concepts A and b, more and more
precise and many-sided comparisons between these and related concepts,
etc., could not lead to the recognition that the two concepts can or can-
159
 THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE§. 314. Of the Relation between our Judgements and Truth

not be combined into a judgement? How many questions in the realm of §.315.
purely conceptual truths have remained undecided for centuries, and yet
a way was found in the end. Think, for example, of the question whether The doctrine of Critical Philosophy on this subject
or not the ratio of the diameter to the circumference of a circle is rational.
What I have just said about the limits of our cognitive faculties agrees
On the other hand, the ideas A and b, of which it is asked whether they
more or less with what most philosophers, aside from the sceptics, have 239
can be combined to form a true proposition, might be mixed concepts. In
always thought. Yet the founder of the Critical Philosophy prided him-
this case, mere contemplation cannot decide anything, rather, experience
self on having measured the power of the human understanding more
is necessary. Suppose further that no one has yet had these experiences,
precisely and having established most definite limits of our knowledge.
or indeed that we cannot even conceive of how they might be possible.
In the discovery (examined above in §305) that synthetic judgements can
Nevertheless, they might still occur in the future, and decide the ques-
only be mediated by intuitions, and that apart from empirical intuitions
tion for us. Thus to the present day no one knows how to decide what
there were also two pure intuitions, namely, space and time, he thought
form the inhabitants of the moon have. But who would wish to conclude
he had found the right way to fix these limits. We are only in a po-
from this that we will never be able to do so? This would be to make the
sition to form true synthetic judgements concerning objects which we
same mistake that someone made centuries ago when he claimed that no
either intuit empirically, or which stand under one of the two pure in-
one would ever be able to calculate the weight of the moon because no
tuitions, space and time. The incoITectness of this claim is clear from
238 one had so far clone so. The flaw of this inference from the past to the
what has already been said, since it has been shown that there are no pure
future becomes all the more palpable when we demand that one indicate
intuitions such as KANT supposed; that synthetic judgements arise not
more precisely what is meant by the future. Is it the near future, which
through intuitions, but rather in a completely different way, partly imme-
all of us hope to live through? Or the duration of the existence of our
dia~ely. through the concepts of which they are composed, partly through
entire species on earth (who knows how long this will be)? Or the future
denvat10n from other judgements; and finally that even analytic judge-
which begins with the withdrawal from this earthly life? Or eternity it-
ments can only come about if certain synthetic judgements have preceded
self? Hardly anyone will venture to opt for the last, i.e., to claim that for
them. Still, it behooves me to consider more closely these consistently
all eternity we will be unable to decide whether a given proposition is true
acute thoughts and the reasons with which KANT supported them.
or false, because we cannot do so now. But if we cannot go so far without
l) K. thought that the above principle could sufficiently explain what
the greatest temerity, it seems to me that we already run some risk even
knowledge we are capable of obtaining, and which sciences we may pur-
in making this prophecy for a much shorter time.
sue. Yet only the so-called theoretical sciences of logic, mathematics,
Note. Hence I confess myself to be of the opinion that it is hardly
physics, and metaphysics were covered by this explanation. I would point
possible to make a determination of the limit of our cognitive faculty, at
out that we also make practical judgements. And as indubitable (as K.
least not the kind that is generally desired. It might be argued that this
himself admits) as the truth of many of these judgements is, so too is
claim contains a contradiction, similar to the one pointed out above in
it obvious that they must be counted not among the analytic, but rather 240
no. 5; for this impossibility itself seems to form a limit for our faculty
among the synthetic judgements. One may fairly ask for an explanation
of knowledge. I reply, in the first place, that I do not claim that such a
of the origin of these, i.e., the pure intuition upon which they are based.
limit can never be given, but only that I clo not know of one; furthermore
Besides this, there are more theoretical sciences than those named above,
that the claim of this impossibility can be considered an indication of
whose existence also requires explanation. I will mention only aesthetics,
an eternally unknowable truth only if it is presupposed that such a limit
of which it can hardly be said that all of its propositions are empirical, or
actually exists even though we cannot indicate it. But I do not say this; I
that all of them are analytic.
rather think that we are unable to indicate this limit because there is none,
. 2) Concerning logic, K. claimed that it (i.e., pure, general logic) con-
so that the sum of human knowledge is capable of increasing ad infinitum.
sisted of nothing but analytic judgements, so that no intuitions were re-
quired to recognise them. I cannot agree with this finding; rather, it seems

160 161
 THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE§. 315.
to me that logic contains a considerable number of synthetic propositions
which are also purely conceptual. Who could claim that the propositions
that there are ideas, simple and complex ideas, intuitions and concepts,
that every proposition may be analysed into three or more parts, that a
relation of ground to consequence obtains among truths, and hundreds of
other similar propositions are analytic? Who would want to claim that
they do not belong in logic? Even the well-known rules of syllogistic are
incorrectly looked upon as analytic. The proposition "If all men are mor-
tal, and Caius is a man, then Caius is mortal" might reasonably be called
analytic in the wider sense of§ 148, but the rule itself, namely, that from
two propositions of the forms "A is B" and "B is C" a third proposition of
the form "A is C" follows, is a synthetic truth.
3) Our philosopher seems to have found himself in a difficult situa-
tion when it came to mathematics, and in particular its general parts, i.e.,
the theories of numbers and quantities. For given their intimate connec-
tion with geometry, he did not wish to claim that these sciences contained
241 only analytic propositions. But if he allowed that they contained synthetic
propositions, he would have to point to a pure intuition that they are based
upon. To claim that it was the intuition of space would be utterly implau-
sible. Thus he felt compelled to say that the basis here was the intuition
of time. By way of justification, he pointed out that all enumeration oc-
curs only in time, i.e., successively (K. d. 1: V., Bl5, Al42-3/182, and
elsewhere). It is clear that he wavered in this decision, however, from the
fact that he occasionally calls upon space to help, claiming that one could
only recognise arithmetical truths by making the numerical concepts that
occurred in them sensible by means of points or some other sort of spa-
tial objects; while in other passages (e.g., K1:, A717/B745) he says that
the concepts of the general theory of quantities are made sensible through
signs, and that here there is no geometrical or ostensive construction, but
rather a symbolic or characteristic construction takes its place. I hope it
will not be thought that I do so for the pleasure of contradiction when
I say that the theory of quantities has a greater right to the name of a
purely analytic science than any other, including logic. For if not all at
least many of its theorems seem to me to be analytic. The proposition
already mentioned in §305: a+ (b+c) = (a+b) +c, seems to me to be
obviously analytic. And many other propositions, e.g., the famous bino-
mial theorem may be held to be analytic, at least if it is understood in
a certain way. But as I cannot go into this here, please consider it un-
said. Now from the fact that all enumeration takes place in time it does
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Of the Relation between our Judgements and Truth
not in the least follow that the science of numbers requires an intuition
of time, as was already pointed out above (§306, no. 6). If this were the
case, then, since all thought takes place in time, the science of thought
(or logic) would also be based upon the intuition of time. In general,
the fact that the ideas of time and space do not occur in the theorems of 242
arithmetic seems to me to show that neither of these ideas are necessary
for the recognition of arithmetical truths. The concepts of quantity and
number (§87) certainly contain neither the idea of time, nor that of space;
just as little are they contained in the concepts of a sum, a product, a dif-
ference, a quotient, etc. No mathematician would deny that arithmetical
theorems are valid for all objects without exception; nor that the laws of
his science are valid not just for those which are in space or time, but
for all the others as well, namely, also for mere concepts. And do not
logicians also calculate? Still more odd is the inference that the theory
of quantities requires the intuition of space or of time because the sym-
bols that mathematicians use are in space and time. Is this not also true
of the signs metaphysicians use? Do they not construct their claims by
means of words, and in time? SCHULTZ (Priif., I, p. 226 ff.) found it
necessary to offer a different explanation on this point. He claimed that it
was absolutely impossible to think a plurality without the aid of an intu-
ition, for things which are identical in their inner characteristics can only
be distinguished by representing them in different times and places. In
my opinion it is in no way necessary for the things which we unite in a
number to be perfectly identical in their inner characteristics; rather we
can also unite things that are quite diverse, and represented as such, in a
number, provided only that they have something in common. Thus we
might ask about the number of concepts or theorems found in this or that
development of a science; and here it is plain as clay that we think of these
concepts and theorems as different from each other. What of the claim, 243
then, that we cannot distinguish the units we are supposed to enumerate
unless we place them in different times and places? And why should it be
necessary for both to occur together? "Because time flows," we read, "the
imagination cannot embrace and retain the units unless they are attached
to something permanent." I ask anyone who has clone any counting: is it
really like this and indeed necessarily so? Does he really represent every-
thing that he counts in different places? What about the chimes a clock
makes? or the ideas of which a given judgement is composed? In my
view, locating things in different places in order to distinguish and count
them is so far from necessary that, on the contrary, it is by recognising
163
 THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE§. 315.
another difference between them (in the way they affect us) that we con-
clude that they occupy different places. And if we could not count things
that aren't in space, we could never count things that are. Finally, when
it is said that the concept of a number is only possible though an intuition
in time, while on the other hand it is admitted that even the most per-
fect understanding recognises numbers, we have a contradiction. For one
cannot recognise a concept without having it. But according to the above,
one would have to have intuitions, and thus sensibility, in order to have
the concept of number. The addition that God recognises numbers only
as predicates of our understanding alters nothing-it is enough that He
recognise them. It is also quite incorrect to say that a concept is a predi-
cate of the understanding. This can be said at most of the appearance or
grasping of the concept by the mind, not of the concept itself.
4) KANT thought that he could sufficiently explain, from his theo-
ries, why the four sciences logic, arithmetic, geometry and pure physics
244 are in the undisputed possession of generally acknowledged truths, the
reason for this being that in the case of merely analytic propositions, as
they are found in logic, as well as with propositions which can be tested
by intuition, e1rnrs cannot easily creep in or maintain themselves. - I
do not wish to deny that the indicated sciences have a marked advan-
tage over others in the reliability of their doctrines. But nobody who
has accepted even the larger part of the foregoing arguments can hold
that the reasons for this are to be found in the circumstances cited by
KANT. Indeed, I see no reason why we should forsake the explanation
which was given long before him. It has always been maintained that
these sciences enjoy such a high degree of certainty only because they
have the advantage that their most important doctrines can be easily and
variously tested by experience, and have been so tested, and that those
doctrines which cannot be immediately tested are deducible by means
of inferences which have been tested many times and have always been
found valid, and finally, that the results obtained in these sciences do not
infringe upon human passions; hence most of these investigations were
begun and finished without bias, and with suitable leisure and peace. The
only reason why we are so certain that the rules Barbara, Celarent, etc.,
are valid is because they have been confirmed in thousands of arguments
in which we have applied them. This also is the true reason why we are so
confident, in mathematics, that factors in a different order give the same
product, or that the sum of the angles in a triangle is equal to two right
angles, or that the forces on a lever are in equilibrium when they stand
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Of the Relation between our Judgements and Truth
in the inverse relation of their distances from the fulcrum, etc. But that
/2 = l .4142 ... , that the volume of a sphere is exactly two-thirds of that
of the circumscribed cylinder, that in each solid there are three free axes 245
of revolution, etc., we claim mainly because they follow from proposi-
tions of the first kind by arguments that others have conducted hundreds
of times and have found valid; an additional factor is that in all these
matters we do not have the slightest advantage if the thing turns out to
be otherwise. That the reason for our confidence really lies in these cir-
cumstances can be seen most clearly from the fact that our confidence
rises and falls as these circumstances dictate. If we have not tested the
truth of a proposition either by experiment, or by repeated checking of its
derivation, we do not give it unqualified assent, if we are at all sensible,
no matter what Critical Philosophy may say about the infallibility of pure
intuition which is supposed to ground these judgements. Does not experi-
ence in fact teach us that we make mistakes in mathematical judgements,
and that we make these mistakes more easily the more we trust what that
philosophy calls by the pompous name of pure intuition? The geometri-
cian responsible for the claims in Euclid's Elements that the two halves
into which a parallelepiped is divided by a diagonal plane are congruent,
or that a pair of solids have the same volume if they are bounded by sim-
ilar and equal sides made such a gross mistake certainly only because he
trusted his intuition, i.e., mere appearance, too much. And why is it that
in mathematics one also finds long disputes over certain subjects, e.g., the
measure of vis viva, the ratio of force to resistance with wedges, the dis-
tribution of pressure over several points, etc., which are still unresolved?
Certainly only because these are theses which cannot be tested by any
appropriate experiment, or at least for which no experiment has yet been
performed. And what happens when passions become involved? When
someone undertakes to solve a problem that has occupied the greatest 246
thinkers for centuries, when he imagines that he has found the solution?
How blind he then becomes despite all his intuition, as the history of
mathematics bears witness with the theory of parallels, the quadrature of
the circle, etc.
5) KANT' s most objectionable teaching is doubtless that we cannot
make any synthetic judgement about objects that we cannot perceive, so
that we can make synthetic judgements neither about God, nor about our
own soul, its immortality, about freedom or other super-sensible objects.
But it is clear from the foregoing that this bleak conclusion is anything but
proven. For if the claims examined in the previous subsections are as un-
165
 THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE§. 315.
proven and false as I believe to have shown, then the premises supporting
it disappear. I will add here that it seems to me that the Critical Philos-
ophy has incorrectly described the distinction which is supposed to hold
between sensible and supersensible objects. If we do not wish to depart
from customary usage unless necessary, then by sensible or perceptible
objects we must understand all those which are so constituted that un-
der certain circumstances they can through their action on the organs of
our body produce perceptions (outer intuitions) in us. On this definition,
some objects we never perceive still count as perceptible; it suffices that
they be constituted as they must be in order to be perceived. It can be
shown that such objects are always bodies, i.e., collections of an infi-
nite number of simple, finite substances which are capable of change, in
such a way that their collection at any moment fills a certain finite three-
dimensional space (§304.4). If one now calls any actual object that is not
247 sensible a supersensible object, then the individual substances of which
these bodies or sensible objects are composed must be counted among
the supersensible objects. But then we cannot say of them that they are
neither in space nor in time; on the contrary, they are in both, although
it is true that a single one of them occupies only a single point in space.
In particular, we would have to also look upon the thinking substance
within us, the soul, as supersensible, even though we must place it both
in time and in space-the former because it changes and causes changes,
the latter because there must be a reason why at a given time it alters or
is altered by this or that neighbouring substance. Further reflection also
makes it probable that not only some, but all simple substances are en-
dowed with the power of representation, though in differing degrees, so
that the differences between so-called lifeless matter, plants, and animals
are differences of degree. Only one single substance, that which contains
the ground of the existence of all finite substances, i.e., the unconditioned
substance of the divinity, is distinguished from all others not only by de-
gree but by its complete perfection. We may say of this divine substance
that it is neither in space nor time insofar as it undergoes no change; but
insofar as it is the cause of everything in every place and at every time,
we may say just as correctly that it is in all times and places. From these
views, which I can only point to here, it follows even more obviously how
incorrect the procedure of the Critical Philosophy is, when it denies us
knowledge of every supersensible thing, including our soul. Many, by the
way, most recently GESSNER (Spec. u. Traum, I, Vorr., xxi), have recog-
nised that this Kantian doctrine is self-contradictory, in that the proposi-
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Of the Relation between our Judgements and Truth
tion that no synthetic judgement may be made about supersensible object 248
is itself a synthetic judgement about them.
6) Since it is precisely of the existence and attributes of these super-
sensible things that metaphysics is supposed to instruct us, the Critical
Philosophy declares that a science worthy of this name neither exists nor
can exist. The fate of this science so far is repeatedly called upon to con-
firm this claim; for not a single thesis can be found upon which all agree.
I admit that metaphysics up to the present day cannot come close to re-
joicing in the brilliant progress seen in other sciences, in particular, math-
ematics. Yet it is too much to say that it does not even contain a single
settled thesis. Consider the propositions that there is a Goel, that this Goel
is inalterable, omniscient, omnipotent, holy, etc., that all substances in
the universe are in continual interaction, that no simple substance ceases
to be, that ideas may only be present in simple substances: should not
these be looked upon as settled theses? It is admittedly true that each of
these propositions is contested by some individual philosophers. But this
does not justify calling them doubtful; for in just the same way there is
no truth of mathematics that has not been contested by individual philoso-
phers, e.g., the sceptics. And here it is relevant that metaphysical truths by
their nature provide a much stronger temptation to contradict them; that
their truth cannot be confirmed by experiences and experiment as many
mathematical truths can; and because the various consequences which
stem from them conflict with the sensuous appetites of men. But perhaps
it is not so much that people have disputed the truth of these theses as
that they have been unable to agree on their correct grounds. Whatever 249
one adduces as the ground, the other rejects as untenable, which led K.
to remark that no sure step had been taken in metaphysics. Here it must
be noted that it is a special indicator of the truth of a judgement when,
despite the lack of unity concerning its ground, the proposition itself is
not doubted. For does this not show that its truth must be almost undeni-
ably obvious to us, if despite all the trouble we have indicating its ground,
we are not led astray concerning the proposition itself? Our inability to
indicate the grounds of these propositions admittedly stems from a great
imperfection in our scientific presentations of metaphysical truths, and
insofar as some of these theses belong among the first propositions in
the system, one may even say that we still lack the first grounds of this
science. But it does not follow that our reason lacks the ability to form
secure judgements about the objects of metaphysics. Indeed, closer con-
sideration shows that the case is the same with all sciences. We may say
167
 THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE§. 315.
of all of them, even those whose perfection we usually pride ourselves
on, that they are still defective in their first grounds. Does not a precise
definition of the object of a science belong to its first grounds? But how
few treatises of geometry have even attempted to define the concept of
space. And do things stand any better with the concepts of a line, surface
or solid, etc.? The notorious axiom of parallels, finally, is at least as great
a problem for geometry as the existence of God is for metaphysics, if the
latter were simply presented as an axiom requiring no proof. In general, it
seems to me that we proceed in these sciences according to quite different
logical strictures, which are in both cases faulty. One of these sciences,
mathematics (perhaps out of gratitude for the magnificent things it has
250 taught us), we hold to be above any violation of the rules of logic, so
much so that we don't even strive to improve it. In metaphysics, by con-
trast, we not only demand (as is proper) that it seek the genuine ground
of the truth of each of its theses, we also forbid any use of a proposition,
no matter how certain, so long as it has not been properly grounded. How
far would we have got in mathematics even today if we had demanded
the same of it?
7) The most remarkable fact is that KANT, not satisfied with denying
the ability of human reason to judge super-sensible objects, went on to
say that in the domain of metaphysics there are four pairs of contradic-
tory propositions (antinomies), each of which can be proved with reasons
that do not violate any of the rules of logic. In the Critique of Pure Rea-
son (A426/B454 ff.) these eight propositions are given with their alleged
proofs. I believe that I have found several mistakes in these proofs, but
to avoid prolixity will merely indicate some of them: (a) The proof of
the proposition that the world has a beginning in time is based upon the
claim that an infinite past sequence is a contradiction; the reason for this
is that the infinity of a sequence is said to consist in the fact that it can
never be completed through a successive synthesis. This I believe to be
quite false, for the infinity of a sequence does not consist in the fact that
it cannot be completed through a successive synthesis (i.e., through a
synthesis which is carried out gradually in time). The concept of time
does not belong to the concept of an infinite sequence at all, since there
are sequences of things, finite as well as infinite, which are not in time
at all. One is the infinite sequence of natural numbers 1, 2, 3, 4, 5,. .. ,
or the following: ... , -5, -4, -3, -2, -1,0, + 1, +2, +3, +4, +5, ... , the
first of which goes to infinity only in one direction, the second in both di-
251 rections. But if there are infinite sequences of numbers, and quantities in
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Of the Relation between our Judgements and Truth
general, then there must also be infinite sequences in time, indeed in both
temporal directions, into the future as well as into the past. And KANT
himself did not find anything objectionable in the possibility of an infinite
sequence into the future; he should therefore also have admitted the pos-
sibility of such a sequence into the past, i.e., the possibility of an already
past infinite sequence, since both directions in time are completely simi-
lar to each other. (b) The proof of the proposition that the world must also
be limited in space is supported by the preceding proof. KANT says "in
order to think a world that fills all spaces as a single whole the successive
synthesis of parts of an infinite world must be considered as completed,
i.e., an infinite time must be thought to have passed in counting all exist-
ing things, which is impossible." We have already seen that this impossi-
bility is a sheer invention. An additional error is that a world consisting
of infinitely many parts can only be thought by means of a successive
synthesis of parts, while we already think such a world when we simply
speak about it. (c) In the second antinomy I take the thesis "every com-
pound substance in the world consists of simple parts, and nothing exists
except the simple or what is compounded from the simple" to be true,
only with the proviso that there must be infinitely many simple parts of
which compound objects consist. I find the proof of the antithesis, or the
proposition that no compound thing in the world consists of simple parts
to be completely untenable. This proof proceeds from the claim that space
does not consist of simple parts, but of spaces, i.e., of manifolds which are
external to each other. This has frequently been said by mathematicians
and is indeed true if taken in a certain sense, but if it is taken in another
sense, the one required for KANT' s proof, it is false. In compound things 252
we can often distinguish two kinds of parts, namely, homogeneous parts,
i.e., parts which stand under the same concept as the whole, and hetero-
geneous parts for which this is not the case. Thus we show that a piece
of saltpetre has homogeneous parts, if we break it into pieces which are
themselves pieces of saltpetre; heterogeneous parts appear when we show
that saltpetre consists of hydrochloric acid and potash. And if we want
to speak merely of homogeneous parts, then it is quite correct to say that
every extended space consists only of other extended spaces, every line
only of lines, etc. But if we want to speak of parts in general, so that het-
erogeneous parts are also included, then we should not hesitate to admit
that every extended space, whether line, surface, or solid, also consists of
simple parts, namely, points; it is nothing but a certain collection of such
points. To make this clear I note, firstly, that it is a generally accepted
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 THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE§. 315.
doctrine that in every line, surface, or solid there are, or as they say, there
lie points. But what can this being or lying of points in a spatial object
be, if not that they arc parts of these objects? It will be objected that these
parts are not integral parts, since it is impossible to produce a solid out of
a number of points, no matter how large. I freely admit this if this num-
ber is finite; I also admit that not every infinite number of points forms an
extended object. But as soon as we think of a collection of points of such
a nature that for every one of them, and for every distance, no matter how
small, there are one or several points in the collection which lie at this
distance from the given point, then we have a true continuum (which will
253 be either a line, a surface, or a solid). Thus we think a surface of a sphere
if we think the collection of all points which are equidistant from a given
point. That there is nothing in this spherical smface but this infinite set of
points, which is represented by the concept of the totality of points which
have the same distance from a given point, follows from the fact that it
is quite impossible to indicate anything that belongs to the surface of this
sphere which is not such a point or a collection of such points. Thus if
one has parts in general in mind, and not just parts of a certain kind (ho-
mogeneous parts), it is false to claim that space does not consist of (an
infinite multitude of) simple parts. (cl) In the third antinomy the expres-
sion of the propositions which are supposed to contradict one another is
already obscure. "Causality according to laws of nature," the thesis reads,
"is not the only one from which all the phenomena of the world can be
derived. In order to explain all of these, one must also suppose that there
is a causality through freedom." And the antithesis: "There is no free-
dom, rather everything in the world occurs entirely according to laws of
nature." In the proof of the latter, freedom is defined as "a capacity of
absolutely starting a state, and hence a sequence of consequences, i.e.,
where nothing happens which would determine this action according to
enduring laws." Here it is striking in the first place that such an ability
is called a causality, given that this word means a causal relation which
does not obtain in this case. It is also assumed that every cause must pre-
cede its effect in time, which is incorrect, in that the cause must instead be
simultaneous with its true effect. Even more important is the fact that this
definition describes something quite different from what common usage
means by freedom. For this is always taken to mean a certain attribute of
the will, and if we adopt the concept which comes closest to the above
254 definition (that of indeterminacy), freedom would be the possibility of a
will forming a resolution which has no determining ground, so that un-
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Of the Relation between our Judgements and Truth
der the same circumstances it could have refrained from doing so. In
this sense of the word it can indeed be said that every free resolution of
the will absolutely starts a sequence of consequences; one cannot claim
the converse, however, i.e., that freedom is present whenever a sequence
of consequences absolutely begins. A sequence of consequences begins
absolutely whenever an uncaused cause acts. God is such a cause, yet
we certainly cannot attribute freedom in the sense of indeterminacy to
Him. (e) In the proof of the thesis it is said that when everything occurs
merely according to laws of nature (i.e., that everything which happens
has a cause, which is itself something that happens), there can be no com-
pleteness of the sequence on the side of the causes. But it only follows
from this assumption that the sequence of things which have happened
must be infinite; it by no means follows that it cannot be complete, and
hence cannot actually exist. For infinite sequences can exist, and even
already have passed by, as I noted in (a) above. Moreover, if an infinite
sequence is actually a mere sequence of causes in the strictest sense, it is
simultaneous with its effect. When, however, its terms are looked upon
not as causes but rather as conditions, each of the next, then it is not even
necessary that an infinite time is required to run through them all. Every
motion a body makes over even the smallest path, provides an example of
a sequence of infinitely many terms, each of which is a condition for the
next one, and which must be passed through before it, even though the
duration required to run through them all may be very short (§87). (f) In
the fourth antinomy, the thesis reads: "Something belongs to the world,
either as one of its parts or as its cause, which is an absolutely necessary
being." Only from the proof does one gather how "to belong to the world"
must be understood, namely, that this necessary being is supposed "either 255
to be the entire series of the world's changes, or else a part of it." How
odd this is! And the proof is: "For the beginning of a time-sequence can
only be determined by something preceding it in time. Thus the highest
condition of the beginning of a sequence of changes in time must exist
when these did not yet exist. Thus this cause belongs to a time, and thus
to appearance; and hence it cannot be thought in isolation from the sen-
sible world as the collection of all appearances." Here, it seems to me,
it is assumed without warrant that the sequence of the world's changes
must have had a beginning in time if it is grounded in something. Can
we not equally well, indeed must we not, assume that the substances of
the world exist at all times, yet do so only through the activity of the
substance whose existence is unconditioned? It also seems to me hasty
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 THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE§. 315.
to conclude that a substance which acts in time must itself belong to ap-
pearance and hence to the sensible world. We only count objects which
can bring about perception in us as belonging to the sensible world (no.
5), and these are never the simple substances themselves, but rather only
infinite collections of them. Thus we cannot even call individual finite
substances appearances or sensible objects; still less the simple substance
which is their cause. And although these simple substances, e.g., our
soul, are supersensible objects, they nevertheless act in time; and hence
God may also act in time without thereby becoming a sensible object.
8) It stands to the credit of this philosopher's moral character that he
attempted to compensate for the damage caused by setting limits to our
cognitive faculties (in denying us any knowledge of supersensible ob-
jects) in claiming that in the concept of obligation which we find in our
256 consciousness there lies a completely sufficient ground for holding the
existence of Goel, our freedom and immortality to be practically true, and
this with a certainty capable of withstanding any knowledge based upon
theoretical grounds. Practical reason (he says) unconditionally requires
the realisation of the highest good in us, which consists in holiness and
the happiness which corresponds to it; thus this must be possible. But
if we were not free and immortal, and if there were no God, this highest
good could not come to be. As certainly, then, as we are conscious of
these requirements of our reason, just as certainly must we believe that
we are free and immortal, and that there is a Goel. I must admit that I do
not find the method of "practical postulation" very satisfactory. I think
we can speak of a duty, or a necessity, of believing something only where
there are decisive grounds for the truth of the respective proposition. If
there are no such grounds for our freedom and immortality, or for the
existence of Goel, then nobody has the duty, nor is it even possible, to
believe in these objects. It seems to me a perverse procedure to deduce,
as KANT did, from a postulate of reason the possibility of its satisfac-
tion. Strictly speaking, reason never demands anything unconditionally,
but only if a being exists which has the power to do a good thing, then
reason demands of this being that it should bring about this good. For ex-
ample, reason does not demand unconditionally that a sick person should
be healed; it only demands from a physician, and from nobody else that,
if he is present, and if he can heal the sick person, then he should do so.
Hence if, as K. claimed, the realisation of the highest good is possible
only if there is a God and if we are free and immortal, then it follows
that we are justified in claiming that reason demands the realisation of
172
Of the Relation between our Judgements and Truth
the highest good if the existence of God, freedom and immortality are
already proved. Hence these three truths cannot be deduced from that 257
postulate; on the contrary, the postulate can be proved only if these three
truths are presupposed.
Note. It was to be foreseen that a doctrine which so forcefully limited
the natural human drive to have knowledge of supersensible things would
not last long. Even the truest adherents KANT has today, KRUG and
FRIES, have tempered his views somewhat. The latter not only admits, as
KANT wanted, a practical belief, but also a speculative one, a presenti-
ment, and if not theory then at least knowledge through Icleas, knowledge
which has the peculiarity of being deduced from ine.ffable premises (and
hence cannot be demonstrated). Almost all of the philosophers in Ger-
many go still further; only-and this is the sad thing in this affair-not
a one of them who makes use of our common right to make judgements
about supersensible things goes to work in this difficult area with the
greatest possible care, taking care not to set out anything as true until
the most precise examination has shown that and why one must accept it
as such. Instead, they either expressly say or else their behaviour shows
clearly enough that if they do not incline towards Kantianism in anything
else, they at least agree with KANT in the claim which would liberate
every philosopher from the obligation of providing rigorous proofs as
well as precise definitions in his science. They do this with a quite tran-
quil conscience, since almost all of them are convinced that they possess
their own special faculty for immediately recognising the entirety of the
truths which they set out, each in his own system. Reason, testimony,
presentiment, feeling, faith, revelation, inner experience, consciousness,
the deepest and most inner unconscious, intuition (rational, intellectual,
transcendental, and ideal), absolute intuition, knowledge, unconditioned
knowledge are just some of the many names given to this faculty or the
knowledge grounded in it. Now not much, I admit, is riding on names. 258
Nor, as you know, do I deny that we know certain purely conceptual truths
immediately. But I cannot admit that truths as complex as those stating
the existence of Goel, or that we are free, or that our soul is immortal, can
be known immediately. And it is inexcusable to claim that a judgement is
immediate without having first shown that it can in no way be mediated.
173
 THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE§. 316. Of the Relation between our Judgements and Truth

§.316.* knowledge [Wissen] or scientific cognitions; the latter may be called or-
dinary cognitions. Instead of using the word "knowledge" in this sense,
Sun'ey of the most important distinctions between ·t miaht be more correct to speak of comprehension or insight; one could 260
1 b .
judgements, based on their relation to truth say of cognitions of this sort that one comprehends them, and the cogm-
tions themselves could be called insights or distinct insights. .
1) If we consider only the relation a given judgement bears to truth,
Note I. The concept I designated in no. 3 by the word sense 1s so
we obtain the known classification of judgements into true and false, the
important for logic and many other sciences as to be indispen~able. Al-
former also counting as cognitions (§307).
though the word I have chosen is multiply ambiguous, I know of no better.
2) Given that most, though not all, of our judgements are mediated
For not only has it often been used with this meaning, it is also fortunately
by others, one may also ask about the relation that the mediating judge-
the case that its other meanings are either easily distinguished from the
ments bear to truth. If these are true, one may call the judgement derived
context, or else it is fair to ask that one refrain from using them. Thus
from them a judgement based upon true or correct grounds, where the
the meaning the word has when it designates ideas conveyed to us by ~er-
word ground is taken in the sense of §313, i.e., we refer not to the objec-
tain sensory organs, is so easily distinguished from the above meanmg
tive ground of a truth, but rather to an individual truth or a collect~on of
that there is no worry of the two being confused. The same holds for the
truths the consideration of which mediates a judgement. If not all of these
meaning in which one speaks of sensing pleasure or pain, etc. My defi-
judgements are true, we speak of a judgement based on false or incorrect
nition has the peculiarity that only cognitions which we gain mediately,
grounds. According to §309, not all judgements based on true grounds
by means of inferences (though we are not conscious of them) are said to
need be true. For if in the derivation of a given judgement we have not
be sensed. Moreover, I think that a great many judgements which others
only used perfect inferences, but have called upon the aid of probabilistic
consider to be immediate are really mediated; and in general I consider it
259 inferences as well, it is not completely certain, but only probable, and
to be incorrect and harmful to the aims of science to declare a judgement
hence may be mistaken. But just as a judgement based on true grounds
to be immediate without having shown that it can in no case be mediated.
need not be true, so too a judgement based on false grounds need not be
The problem with using the word knowledge [Wissen] in the sense of no.
false. For false premises sometimes lead to true conclusions, in cases of
4 is not only that I wish to retain it for another concept (§321), but also
both probabilistic and strict inferences.
that knowledge [Wissen] reminds one too much of certainty [Gew@heit],
3) Understandably, the distinction between judgements already men-
i.e., of a very high degree of confidence. In no. 4, however, it is a matter
tioned in §306 no. 10, based upon whether we are aware of the grounds
of a different kind of cognition, whose peculiarity lies not in the degree
we have for forming a judgement, also applies to true judgements. But
of its certainty, but in something else altogether. For even though it usu-
here it is very noteworthy. And one usually calls the ability to form a cor-
ally happens that the recognition of the grounds of a truth makes us more
rect judgement or (what amounts to the same) to recognise truth without
certain of the truth itself, yet the degree of certainty with such truths is
recognising the grounds from which one recognises it, a sense [Gefiihl]
not always as high as one imagines when one hears us say We knmv that!
for the truth; and one says of truth recognised in this way that one senses
Incidentally, this sense of the word (Scire, sn:kn:cxavw) has earned pride 261
it. If, on the contrary, one is also aware of the grounds from which one
of place in the older treatises. The Greeks, e.g., ARISTOTLE (An. Post., I,
has formed a true judgement, one says that he has a distinct cognition.
2) only wanted us to say that someone knew something if he recognised
4) Another important difference obtains between our true judgements
its ground. And the same definition is given by WOLFF (L., §594), the
or cognitions depending upon whether its genuine, i.e., objective, ground
Ars cogit., REUSCH, and others. From this stemmed the difficulty that we
is known to us or not. Cognitions for which we also know whether the
could never say that someone knew a truth which had no further ground
truth that constitutes their content rests upon a further ground, and what
of its truth. This difficulty can be addressed with the small alteration
this ground is, differ essentially from those for which this is not the case,
of this definition I suggested above. Less consistently than ARISTOTLE,
i.e., those such that we do not know whether they have a further ground
KANT (L., Ak., 9.70; K. d. 1: V., A822/B850) defined knowledge as hold-
of their truth, or what this is. Cognitions of the first sort are usually called

174 175
 THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE§. 316.

ing something to be true based on grounds which are both objectively PART IV
and subjectively sufficient, and then went on to classify knowledge as
either mediate or immediate. Others, by contrast, either for the reason
Of Certainty, Probability, and
already adduced by ARISTOTLE, or for some other (e.g., BOUTERWECK
Confidence in Judgements
Leh rb. d. ph. W, I, p. 50), believe that there is a contradiction in the con~
§.317.
cept of immediate knowledge. For my part, the only things I disapprove
of in this use of the word are those mentioned above. But given that the Definition ()f the concepts of certainty and probability
word science [Wissenschcift] often (it seems to me) no longer suggests the with respect to thinking beings
misleading associated concept of certainty [Gewissheit], I prefer to use
1) The relation between our judgements and truth has been sufficiently
the expression scient(fic cognition rather than "knowledge" in the above
discussed, and it is now necessary to consider their certainty or probabil-
sense.
ity and the degree of confidence which depends upon them. If the theory
Note 2. Although it is incumbent upon synonymies rather than logic
concerning the origin of error maintained in §309 is correct, then we can
to point out the differences which the German language makes between
the various words kennen [to be acquainted with], erkennen [to recog- say of every fallible thinking being that it commits errors only for the
following reason: it takes propositions to be true which stand in a real
nise], anerkennen [to recognise the character of], begreifen [to compre-
or fancied relation of probability (cf. § 161) to certain other propositions,
hend], einsehen [to realise], verstehen [to understand], and the like, I will
which this being, rightly or wrongly, assumes to be true. In the case of
nevertheless give a brief account of them. It seems to me that we say
judgements that are not mediated, likewise with judgements that follow
we are acquainted with an object when we are in a position to make as
from immediate judgements by non-probabilistic arguments in the sense
many true judgements concerning it as generally seem humanly possible
of §253, no error can occur; all such judgements are true.
and useful with objects of this sort. To recognise an object means to form
2) Consequently, judgements generated in a way that makes error im-
the true judgement that it is the same as the object we elsewhere thought
possible are, for this reason, called certain, or secure. Thus, certainty
under certain other ideas. To recognise the character of an object as an
in this sense must be distinguished from the concept defined in § 161, 264
A means to form a true judgement that it stands under the idea A. In
no. 3. The latter is merely a relation which holds between propositions,
262 my opinion we only say that we comprehend or realise something when
where one of them is deducible from the others, and where it is a matter
we wish to point out that we have some knowledge of the reason (the
of indifference whether these propositions are in themselves true or false
genuine, objective ground) why it is so. We usually say we realise some-
or whether there is a thinking being who takes them to be true or even
thing when this knowledge of the ground involves a good deal of our own
thinks them. Certainty in the present sense is a property which belongs
mental activity, while comprehending something can also be used when it
only to judgements, and belongs to them only in relation to a thinkinab be-
was principally the efforts of others which brought us knowledge of this .
mg who presently forms them, provided that they are generated in a way
ground. To understand, finally, is almost always used for the recognition
that makes error impossible. The context will make clear in which sense
263 of the intentions, especially the meanings, we connect with signs.
the word "certainty" is taken in a given case; if it does not, I will add the
phrase, "for a certain thinking being". It follows from this explication
that a proposition which has certainty for a being must be considered true
by that being, or (what comes to the same thing) is one of its judgements.
This is also in conformity with common usage; it would be strange if
we wanted to call a proposition certain for a person even if he does not
:ake it to be true, perhaps only because he could be easily convinced of
it. Furthermore only propositions which are true in themselves can be
called certain with respect to a thinking being; for the judgement which

176 177
 THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE§. 317.
contains this proposition must come about in a way that makes error im-
possible, hence it must be true. Since true judgements are also called cog-
nitions, propositions which are certain can all be called cognitions. One
and the same proposition will have to be considered sometimes certain,
sometimes not, depending on the being to which it is related. Thus, for
God everything which is true is certain, since He recognises all truth and
recognises it without possibility of error. With men, the class of certain
265 propositions is restricted to truths that are recognised without mediation
(no. l), or that follow from immediate judgements by a non-probabilistic
deduction.
3) On the other hand, propositions about which we may be mistaken
are, according to no. 1, only those that stand in a real or fancied relation
of probability (cf. § 161) to other propositions that have already been ac-
cepted as true by the being in question. Hence only the following cases
can arise: (a) the premises A, B, C, D, ... , which are taken to be true by
the being are indeed true and, proposition M stands to them in the relation
of probability (cf. § 161 ); or (b) the propositions A, B, C, D, ... are true,
but the proposition M does not really stand in the relation of probabil-
ity with respect to them, but the being mistakenly thinks that it does; or
(c) the premises A, B, C, D, ... are not all true but a real relation of prob-
ability obtains between M and them; or, finally, (cl) the propositions A, B,
C, D, ... are not all true nor is there a real relation of probability between
Mand them. A moment's thought shows that cases (b) and (d) can be re-
duced to (c ). Since reason never ens in the judgement that a proposition
is deducible from certain other propositions, except by introducing a rule
R according to which this deduction is to proceed, we can always add this
erroneous rule R to the propositions A, B, C, D, ... which are accepted as
premises by the being. But then the premises A, B, C, D, ... and R stand
not only in an imagined, but in a real, relation of probability. Hence we
can say that enor arises only if a being accepts as true propositions stand-
ing in the relation of probability to certain other propositions that it has
already accepted as true. It is very important to draw attention to these
266 propositions, and to give them a name; let us call them propositions which
have probability for this being. Hence we must distinguish probability in
this sense of the word from probability as it was defined in § 161. There
we meant by probability a relation which holds between propositions as
such, no matter whether they are in themselves true or false or whether
somebody takes them to be true or false. Here, on the other hand, prob-
ability is an attribute which a proposition can have only in relation to a
178
Of Certainty, Probability and Confidence in Judgements
certain thinking being, and only if that being accepts as true the propo-
sitions relative to which that proposition has probability. Hence, if we
say that a proposition M has probability for a certain being with respect
to assumptions A, B, C, D, ... and ideas i, j, ... , then propositions A,
B. C, D, ... must be considered true by that being, and proposition M
must stand to A, B, C, D, ... in the relation of probability (cf. § 161) with
respect to ideas i, j, .... But this definition does not require that the being
should also take proposition M itself for true, nor does this seem to be
required by common usage. Could it not be the case, for example, that
there is a proposition which follows with probability from certain other
propositions accepted by somebody, although he does not know this be-
cause he is not paying attention to the matter? It would seem reasonable,
in this case, to call this proposition probable for him (though he is not
conscious of this fact). The composition of the word "Wahrscheinlich"
[probable], especially the suffix, does not indicate an actual holding to
be true or appearance, but rather the possibility of these. It follows from
this that probability in this sense can be divided into recognised and un-
recognised. Concerning proposition M itself, it is not necessary that a
thinking being must accept M even if it is aware of the relation of prob- 267
ability which holds between M and the accepted propositions A, B, C,
D, ... ; this, indeed, never happens if the recognised probability of the
1,
proposition is < since in this case it will incline toward the judgement
Neg.M. Hence we must distinguish probable propositions which are held
to be true and others which are not. The assumptions A, B, C, D, ...
which are accepted by the thinking being, and to which M stands in a
real relation of probability are either all true or some of them are false.
In the first case the probability of M can be called actual or objective,
in the second a merely apparent or subjective probability. In the case
where the probability of M with respect to A, B, C, D, ... is objective
for a certain being, i.e., if the propositions A, B, C, D, ... are all truths,
they are occasionally called grounds of that probability, sometimes even
the grounds (though not sufficient grounds) of proposition M itself. Ac-
cording to the sense of the word ground given in § 198, we could only
say of these propositions that, taken together, they are not the ground of
M itself, but the ground of the proposition which states its probability
for that being. If we call them grounds in the plural, then these must be
looked upon as partial grounds; while if they are said to be grounds of
the proposition M itself, this must mean the mere cause of holding M
to be true or grounds of recognition in the sense of §313. Consider all
179
 THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE§. 317.
propositions which are accepted by a thinking being and which stand in
the relation of probability (§161) to a given proposition M; the probabil-
ity which accrues to M only on the basis of part of this collection is called
a relative probability of M for that being; while that which accrues to M
268 on the basis of all of these propositions is called the complete or abso-
lute probability of M for this being. Thus, for example, the probability
of the proposition that the earth turns around its axis merely on the basis
that such revolutions are found in several other heavenly bodies is only a
relative probability of this proposition; on the other hand, the probability
which accrues to it from the consideration of all circumstances known to
me which speak for or against such revolutions, is the absolute proba-
bility which this proposition has for me. We can see from § 161, no. 18
that the absolute probability of a proposition does not always have to be
larger than every relative probability. For, among the totality of proposi-
tions which are accepted by somebody as true, there may be some which,
taken in themselves, give a probability < ~ to it; such propositions will
diminish the degree of probability that accrue to it from other consider-
ations. Thus the probability with which a doctor expects the death of a
patient based upon the symptoms he observed in him a few days ago will
lessen considerably when he considers the other circumstances, e.g., that
he has not yet received word of his death. If the absolute probability of a
proposition for a certain being is very large and if there are circumstances
which make it foolish or illicit to consider the possibility of the opposite
and to act on it, then I call these propositions trustworthy, secure, reliable
for that being. In ordinary life these propositions are often called certain,
but in science they are merely called morally or sufficiently certain in con-
trast to proper certainty (no. 2). Hence I call it a trustworthy proposition
269 that the ceiling of this room will not collapse. This calamity, though I do
not find it impossible, has such a low degree of absolute probability that
it would be foolish to consider it in my actions and, for example, leave
the room, since the clanger of an accident if I remain here is not larger
than the clangers encountered when I leave it and spend the night outside.
Hence trustworthiness has several degrees; and one and the same degree
of absolute probability, which makes one proposition trustworthy for a
given being, may be too low for another proposition. For it is not the low
degree of probability alone which makes it foolish or illicit to think of the
possible opposite of proposition M and to prepare for it, but certain other
circumstances also play a role. Consider the harm which would arise if
the opposite of M were true and we did not prepare for it. The product of
180
Of Certainty, Probubility and Confidence in Judgements
this harm and the degree of probability of Neg.Mis the magnitude of the
risk to which we are subject when we do not prepare for N eg.M. What
makes it foolish or illicit then, to prepare for or consider the opposite of
a given proposition M is that the clanger in neglecting Neg .M is smaller
than the danger in neglecting M. Hence, whether or not a proposition is
morally certain depends on the magnitude of harm that would result if
its opposite came about and we were unprepared for it, and on other cir-
cumstances as well. Thus, the probability that somebody who is in good
health will not live to see the next clay is small enough to be neglected
in connection with business that would not greatly suffer from his death; 270
hence his survival for one clay is credible; but where great disadvantages
accrue, it is certainly one's duty to think of the possibility of sudden death,
and make appropriate preparations; hence in this respect it is not certain
enough that he will live to see the following clay, etc.
Note 1. In defining the concept of certainty I wanted to follow com-
mon usage exactly. This is why I limited it to propositions which some-
one in fact holds to be true, though the similarity between the certain and
the probable might have permitted a generalisation. WOLFF (L., §564)
gave the definition: Si cognoscimus, propositionem esse veram vel fal-
sam, propositio nob is dicitur esse certa; 1 and MAAB writes (L., §328):
"A judgement is certain insofar as one is aware of its truth." It seems to
me that in these definitions the entire concept of certainty occurs unanal-
ysed in the words "cognoscere", "to be aware of", etc. Others, like FRIES
(L., §95), say that a judgement is certain if it has sufficient grounds. By
these, obviously, mere grounds ofrecognition (§313) are meant; but there
are also immediate judgements, which are completely certain because of
their immediacy, and one cannot say that they are recognised from suffi-
cient grounds. KANT (L., p. 90) and several others defined certainty as
a belief [Fiirwahrhalten] which is connected with a consciousness of ne-
cessity. Presumably the necessity under discussion consists in a certain
relation to the judging person, i.e., a judgement is certain whenever the
judging person feels that his judgement could not be otherwise and that he
is compelled to judge in this way; against this I should like to call to mind
that all judging is in a certain sense necessary: it is not our arbitrary de-
cision to form a judgement in this or in some other way; on the contrary,
after we have directed our attention to certain objects, we feel compelled
in each of our judgements. If I am told that out of a hundred balls most
1
If we know that a proposition is true or false, then the proposition is said to be certain
for us.
181
 THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE§. 317.
are black and only a few are white, and I see somebody choosing one
at random, I cannot decide to expect that a black ball will be drawn; I
271 am compelled to expect this although I know that it could be mistaken
and that a white ball could be drawn. On the other hand, if the notion
of necessity is related to the proposition itself which is the content of the
judgement, I must reply that necessity in the proper sense of the word is
an attribute which belongs only to actual things, but not to objects that do
not have actuality, for example propositions. In an improper sense one
may attribute necessity to a certain kind of proposition, namely, those
that express purely conceptual truths; but the class of certain propositions
comprises more than these; it also includes so-called empirical truths, and
KANT himself accordingly distinguishes rational and empirical certainty.
Note 2. Everyone will see for himself that the concept of probability
for a given thinking being as set out in no. 3 is far closer to the sense in
which this word is most often taken in ordinary life than that described in
§161; yet I intentionally departed from common usage in the following
respect. According to my definition, a proposition M is said to be proba-
ble for a given thinking being if it stands in a relation of probability with
respect to propositions A, B, C, D, ... which this being holds to be true,
regardless of the degree of this probability. According to ordinary usage,
a proposition M is only called probable for this being when the probabil-
ity that accrues to it with respect to the propositions A, B, C, D, ... turns
out greater than ~. One will readily understand why I did not retain this
restriction. I also did not require that the thinking being with respect to
which we ascribe probability to a proposition hold this proposition to be
true. The reason for this is not simply that ordinary usage and syntax per-
mit this, but rather because of the fact, mentioned in no. 3, that there are
propositions which stand in a relation of probability in the sense of § 161
to certain propositions held to be true by a thinking being, without it be-
ing possible for this being to accept them as true (and thus to judge that
M) even if it notices this relation. Namely, when the degree of probability
272 is < ~, not the proposition itself but rather the opposite will be reckoned
to be true, i.e., the being will judge that M is false.
Note 3. I also found myself obliged to depart at a few points from
the usual concepts in my definitions of the various kinds of probability.
Some will take exception to the fact that on the one hand I connect the
concept of probability with certain thinking beings, and on the other hand
I distinguish an objective from a subjective probability; they probably
object because we call something objective if it can be thought without
182
Of Certainty, Probabi{i(Y and Confidence in Judgements
relation to a subject. I wish to reply that my distinction between these
two kinds of probability depends upon the kind of premises this thinking
being accepts as true. If they are objectively true, then the probability can
also be called objective; if they are in themselves false, but are taken to
be true by the subject, then we ought to call the probability subjective.
In HOFFBAUER'S Logik, (§419), we read: "When the lack of certainty
presupposed by a determinate probability is necessary on account of the
limitations of human knowledge, and the grounds upon which the prob-
ability rests can be recognised by everyone, the probability is objective;
otherwise it is subjective." The definition of CRUSIUS is almost exactly
the same (W z.. G., §369). It seems to me that these definitions are some-
what unsteady, and not very useful. For who will deny that the limits of
human knowledge expand from time to time and that consequently much
that now seems probable to us may cease to be at another time, or that the
degree of its probability may change? But when HOFFBAUER (note 2)
adduces games of chance as examples of objective probability, with the
remark that "the possibility of all cases can be determined a priori, but
nobody can give reasons why one outcome rather than another should be
the case," I must confess that I cannot understand him. For the claim that
the possibility of all cases can be determined a priori can only mean that
we can determine a priori that each of several enumerated cases has the 273
same probability. But we can attribute this equal probability to several
cases only if we ignore all dissimilarities (e.g., that one ball is heavier
than the others, etc.). If we assume that these cases are in actual fact
equal, then not only is it impossible for any person, but even for God to
give a reason why "this rather than that outcome will be the case." Ac-
tually, nothing would happen, since the exact equality of circumstances
would give no preference to one case over all others. But this is not
the case; rather, in each of several cases which have an equal probabil-
ity there are certain peculiar circumstances which make it happen that
only one of them comes about, and which makes the occurrence of all
the others impossible. Even we are capable of ascertaining, under certain
circumstances, some of these dissimilarities, for example that some balls
are heavier or smoother, etc., and can then make estimates of which case
is more likely to occur. When, as is usually the case, the difference
between relative and absolute probability is said to lie in the fact that the
former consists in the relation to another probability and the latter in the
relation to certainty, it strikes me that such a distinction is not important
enough to merit its own designation. By contrast, I note that we often
183
 THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE§. 318.
need a word for the kind of probability a proposition has, not in relation
to all circumstances, but rather in relation to those known to us, and for
this the word relative seems quite serviceable. - The concept I defined
under the names of trustworthiness or moral certitude has been described
by LEIBNIZ (Nouv. Ess., IV, xi), SCHULZE (L., 107), CRUSIUS (W z. G.,
§361 and 410) and others in almost the same words. - The distinction
between sirnple and complex probability one finds, e.g., in HOFFBAUER
(L., §418) seems to me to be of no importance. Often mathematical prob-
ability on the one hand and dynamic or philosophical probability on the
other are distinguished; the former is said to occur where all so-called
grounds are homogeneous and need only to be counted; the latter, where
274 this is not the case. I, too, believe that there are probabilities we can cal-
culate, and others we cannot calculate, but I think that this distinction is
very subjective and vacillating. What seems more important to me is the
distinction, already touched upon in § 161, no. 8, between probabilities
which are determined by their premises and those that are not. Perhaps it
was only this distinction they had in mind without being aware of it. -
Some logicians, for example KIESEWETTER (L., I, §297) distinguish be-
tween real and logical probability. The former is said to be the probability
of a thing, the latter of a judgement; the former is said to be calculable
"since the reasons are envisaged as similar, the latter not, since the rea-
sons for and against an opinion are dissimilar" (ibid., p. 468). I should
like to reply that, strictly speaking, probability is an attribute which be-
longs only to propositions, hence to judgements only in so far as they are
propositions, but which does not belong to any other object. Hence, if we
frequently use expressions such as "this event is probable", etc., all we
want to say is that the proposition stating that this event occurs is proba-
ble. Just as it is improper to call an event true (at most this could mean
that the prvposition which states it is true) so too is it improper to call
it probable. If this is cotTect, then the above distinction and the remarks
made about it require no further refutation.
§.318.
Factors which determine the confidence of our judgements
Although I have already defined the concept I connect with the word con-
fidence in §293, and also noted on that occasion that this confidence is
an attribute which belongs to all of our judgements (if not always in the
same measure), it is only now, after having spoken of the difference be-
tween true and false judgements and the probability of propositions, that
184
Of Certainty, Probability and Confidence in Judgements
it is appropriate to go into greater detail on this subject. I shall first look 275
into the conditions upon which the nature of our confidence depends, then
the most noteworthy levels of confidence, and finally the way degrees of
confidence may be determined through calculation.
The question arises as to the ground of our attaching this or that de-
gree of confidence to a given judgement. Could it be that, before forming
any judgement, we weigh its precise degree of probability or full cer-
tainty? This could be the first thought that comes to mind here. It cannot
be denied that this occurs sometimes, and that often before pronouncing
judgement M, we first note either that M belongs to the propositions that
are certain for us, or else that it has such and such degree of probability,
which then governs the degree of confidence with which we judge. But it
is another thing to claim that this occurs with every judgement, i.e., that
we never form a judgement M without first having noted the degree of
probability or the full certainty M has for us. This would be absurd, for
the observation that the proposition M is either fully certain or else has
a determinate degree of probability is itself a judgement, whether or not
it is formulated in words. In order to form this second judgement with a
certain degree of confidence, then, we would have to have formed a third
judgement fixing its degree of confidence, and so on without end. Thus
there must be judgements for which the degree of confidence with which
we form them is in no way produced by the previous observation of their
degree of probability or complete certainty. It is obvious that all imme-
diate judgements must be counted among these. But even in the class
of mediate judgements there must be a great many which we form with- 276
out having previously judged the degree of probability or the complete
certainty of a proposition. For even a judgement that fixes the degree of
probability or the complete certainty of a proposition is obviously me-
diated. If we wanted to claim the contrary, we would fall back into the
just noted absurdity. But although it is certain that the determinate degree
of confidence with which we form a judgement M does not always arise
from the observed degree of probability or complete certainty the propo-
sition M has for us, we must nevertheless admit that this degree of prob-
ability or full certainty, even when it is not noticed, has an influence on
the degree of our confidence. Indeed, a little reflection shows that nothing
can immediately determine the degree of our confidence in a judgement
M except the following two things: (a) the degree of absolute probability
or complete certainty which accrues to proposition M with respect to the
totality of judgements A, B, C, D, ... that are currently in our mind, and
185
 THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE§. 318. Of Certainty, Probability and Confidence in Judgements

provide evidence for or against M; and (b) the degrees of confidence of ability. Their force is larger the larger the degree of their own confidence,
the ju~gements A, B, C, D, ... themselves. What besides these two things and judgement M, which is generated by them, will become stronger, i.e.,
could it be that determines the confidence of our judgement? Judgements will enjoy greater confidence the greater the force of its generators. It is
which we have formed earlier, but have forgotten, or which are not now in not surprising that all this should happen without our knowing the mag-
our mind, either clearly or obscurely, cannot act, simply because they are nitude of the forces of A, B, C, D, ... or of the strength which judgement
not there. The greater or smaller degree of attention with which we test M receives from them. This is no more surprising than the fact that we
proposition M, the strength of our wish that it should turn out true or false: bring forth thousands of other effects without being aware of the laws
such matters certainly have an influence. They determine to some extent according to which they are produced.
how our judgement turns out (whether it will be affirmative or negative)
and in particular they will also determine the degree of our confidence §.319.
in it. But it seems to me that all these circumstances act only indirectly,
277 not immediately, namely, only in so far as they stimulate judgements that
The most notevvorthy levels of our confidence
we have formed earlier, and on whose presence in the mind the degree of
No one will deny that the degree of confidence with which we form judge-
probability of proposition M depends. It is also obvious that the degree
ments is not the same in all cases. Everyone will also admit, I hope, that
of our confidence does not depend upon the relative degree of probability
judgements we form without the mediation of others never have a lower
which proposition M has in relation to a part of our judgements, but it
degree of confidence than those we deduce from them. I would like to
depends upon the degree of absolute probability of this proposition, pro-
go still further and say that the degree of confidence with which we form
vided that we mean by absolute probability the probability which accrues
immediate judgements is the same in all cases. The judgement that I just
to it with respect to all judgements currently in our mind. It is similarly
now feel a certain pain may perhaps be more vivid than the judgement that
obvious that these judgements can influence the degree of confidence of
I have the idea of a green colour, but the degree of confidence with which
judgement M only in proportion to the confidence that they themselves
we form them seems to be completely equal. Indeed we must maintain
have. But there is a twofold difficulty connected with this view. (a) Since
that they are equal if (as was claimed in the previous section) the degree
the degree of confidence with which we judge is always actual and finite,
of confidence is determined by the degree of probability alone. For the
it must in each case be completely determined. However, according to
probability of all immediate judgements is the same, namely, = 1. Since
§ 161, no. 8, it is reasonable to suppose that there are premises which
according to this there is only one sort of confidence with which we at
leave the degree of probability of a certain proposition completely unde-
least form all immediate judgements, and given that there is certainly no 279
termined. How then can the confidence with which we judge have a deter-
higher degree, permit me to call this sort of confidence the highest, or
minate degree, if it depends upon something that is itself undetermined?
pe1fect or complete confidence. People often use the words certaintv. or
(b) Is it not incomprehensible how a degree of probability which we do
pe1ject, complete certainty to designate this level of confidence. Thus
not actually notice can have effects in our mind such that it determines
the same word is used to designate an attribute of propositions and an
the degree of confidence with which we form a judgement? I should like
attribute of the confidence with which we pronounce these propositions
to make the following reply. Concerning (a): if the judgements which are
in judgements.
currently in the mind, A, B, C, D, ... , and which function as premises
It is no less obvious that judgements we form through the mediation
to the proposition M, do not produce a determinate degree of probability
of probabilistic inferences enjoy a lower degree of confidence than im-
for M, we will neither form judgement M nor judgement Neg.M, just as
mediate judgements. It remains to be decided how things stand with the
we do not form this judgement when the premises bestow a probability of
kind of judgements that are indeed mediated, but only by so-called perfect
1 upon proposition M. Concerning (b): we must envisage judgements A,
inferences. According to what was said in §301 about the actual origin
278 B, C, D, ... from which a certain probability accrues to proposition M as
of our judgements, the number of judgements of this kind is never very
forces which generate judgement M with its determinate degree of prob-
great, since not only every judgement of experience, but also any purely

186 187
 THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE§. 319.
conceptual judgement based upon a long sequence of inferences, requires
mediation by probabilistic inferences. Given, then, that the number of
judgements we obtain without any probabilistic inference is very small,
we might well leave open the question of the degree of confidence with
which they are formed. But when everything pertinent is considered, we
will scarcely object to the claim that they are formed with the same degree
of confidence as the immediate judgements from which they are derived.
Indeed, this must be so if the degree of confidence is determined by the
degree of probability. For the latter is also = 1 for this kind of proposi-
tion. Now given that the immediate judgements as well as the conclusions
280 derived from them through perfect inferences are the only ones where er-
ror cannot occur, it can also be said that these and only these judgements
are formed with complete confidence. By contrast, all judgements that
are merely probable propositions for us are formed with a lower degree
of confidence. The confidence with which we form a judgement that is
not completely, but only morally certain (in the sense of §317), e.g., the
confidence we have when we believe it to be foolish and impermissible
to worry about the possibility of the contrary and prepare for it, may be
called moral confidence or conviction. This degree of confidence is usu-
ally called certainty too, i.e., complete or moral or reassuring certainty.
If, however, the degree of confidence is less than this, so that it is in no
way foolish or impermissible to consider the possibility that we are mis-
taken, we call this activity of our mind mere opining or surmising.
Note. It would be futile as well as unreasonable to want to forbid the
use of the word certainty in both of the senses mentioned above. The
twofold usage of this word is so widespread that it would be difficult to
decide which sense occurs more often. Who could hope to effect a change
in this usage? And why would one want to, given that these meanings can
scarcely cause misunderstandings provided that one is careful in applying
them? In most cases, the context shows whether one speaks of the cer-
tainty of a proposition or the certainty with which one forms a judgement.
The meaning of the word conviction is also quite variable, yet it seems to
me that the sense in which I have taken it here accords best with accepted
usage. For one usually only speaks of conviction when there is no worry
of the contrary occurring, i.e., when the proposition one accepts is either
281 completely or morally certain. Admittedly, another, related concept is as-
sociated with this one, namely, that the confidence with which one has
pronounced a judgement has been produced by a preceding examination
or special proof. For in the case of judgements which arise in us without
188
Of Certainty, Probability and Confidence in Judgements
any mediation, such as immediate judgements of perception, we do not
usually say that they are pronounced with conviction, even though they
are fully certain. The definitions given by KANT in his Logic [Ak., 9.73]
and the Critique of Pure Reason (A820/B848ff) of the concept of persua-
sion and the opposed concept of conviction are not only difficult to justify,
but also incompatible. In KIESEWETTER' s W. A. d. L. (I, p. 463) we read:
"Conviction is holding something to be true, when the subjective grounds
are also the objective ones." He acids "A ground is subjective if it is based
upon the individual constitution of the person in which it is found, and
thus is valid for him alone. It is objective when it is drawn from the thing
itself, i.e., is universally valid." Here it is incomprehensible how a subjec-
tive ground could be objective as well; furthermore, it is a mystery how
"drawn from the thing itself" and "universally valid" could be equivalent
expressions. KANT delineates the meaning of the latter in the follow-
ing terms (ibid.): "if holding something to be true is valid for everyone
insofar as he is rational." Here I ask whether by "everyone who is ratio-
nal" means absolutely every rational being, e.g., including God, or only
human beings? If the former, then grounds which are merely probable
could never produce conviction, since a being like God could never make
use of such grounds in its judgements. In this case, we would have to ex-
clude all truths of experience from the domain of conviction, something
which neither KANT himself nor accepted usage would allow. But if one
only speaks of humans, then it is plain as clay that it depends very much
upon the particular circumstances in which someone finds himself-his
previous knowledge, his attentiveness, etc.-whether certain grounds are
sufficient for him or not. Hence I ask: in what state should we think peo-
ple to be? If it is replied "in the state they are actually in," I would reply
that innumerable truths that these scholars pride themselves on knowing 282
with conviction would have to be struck from the roll of those which hu-
mans can know with conviction, since they are beyond the reach of many.
And if one says "one must imagine that every man has procured the per-
tinent previous knowledge, and is appropriately attentive, etc.," I remark
that the concept of conviction could then have been defined much more
briefly and properly as holding something to be true clue to following the
rules of correct thought. Some have indeed actually given this definition,
e.g., FRIES (Syst. d. L., p. 491): "Conviction is holding something to be
true in accordance with formal laws. I am convinced when I follow the
correct rules for the formation of a cognition." It seems to me, however,
that this concept is completely different from the one that accepted us-
189
 THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE§. 320.
age connects with [the word] conviction; for I can follow correct rules of
thought even when this only gains me a small probability, so that I have
only surmised; but a surmise is quite different from conviction. MAAB
(Gt: d. L., §519) gave the definition: "Conviction is the consciousness of
the truth of a judgement from grounds that actually hold, and from which
this truth follows." Accordingly, every judgement pronounced with con-
viction would have to be true, one would have to be aware of its grounds,
and these grounds would have to be objective. None of these conditions
is required by accepted usage. KRUG (Fund., §89) defines conviction in
the broad sense as "an enduring consciousness of the validity of a judge-
ment, or that mental state which stems from a durable approval." In my
view it is indeed true that conviction is in the main durable. This does
not form part of its concept, however; rather, it follows from its partic-
ular attributes. Under certain circumstances the strongest conviction can
quickly disappear. For if we suppose that conviction may also occur with
respect to objects of experience, then, because with judgements of this
sort the utter impossibility of the contrary never obtains, it is possible for
the strongest conviction which we have at one moment to be annihilated
283 in the next.
§.320.
How the various degrees of confidence can be represented numerically
It will rarely be very important to represent numerically the degree of
confidence with which we judge. Still, it might be a useful intellectual
exercise to consider the question how these degrees should be calculated;
this motivates the present discussion.
1) If the degree of probability of a proposition M with respect to the
premises A, B, C, D, ... (which are certain for us) is = !,
i.e., if this
proposition is just as probable as its negation Neg .M, and if we notice
this, then it is obvious that we will not form judgement M. For if we form
that judgement, then for the same reason we should also have to form
judgement Neg .M, and it is certain that we cannot do both at the same
time. Hence we do neither, i.e., we do not judge at all. In this case the
degree of confidence is called doubtfulness, possibly because we do not
judge but doubt, whenever the probability of a proposition is = !.
2) On the other hand, if the degree of probability that proposition M
has for us with respect to the (certain) premises A,B,C,D, ... is larger
than one-half, then it is understandable that we form judgement M, if
premises A, B, C, D, ... are then present in our mind. Likewise, the degree
190
Of Certain(v, Probability and Confidence in Judgements
of confidence with which we form this judgement will be proportionate
to the surplus of the probability of proposition M over the probability of
its negation Neg.M, since it is nothing but this surplus which determines
us to judge. Let us use 11 to designate the probability of proposition M;
then the probability of Neg.M 1 - µ. Hence the degree of confidence
with which M is formed will be proportional to the quantity µ - ( 1 284
µ) = 2µ 1, and can be expressed by (2µ - 1)C, where C is a constant.
Now since the degree of confidence that has no higher degree above it
is finite, we can take it as a measure for the rest and use it as the unit.
Hence the expression (2µ - 1)C should equal unity when µ = 1. For if
the probability of a proposition turns into certainty, then the confidence
of our judgement is pe1fect, and there can be no higher degree. Hence the
value of the constant C = 1, and the degree of confidence with which we
form a judgement which has probability µ is simply 2µ - 1.
Recall ( § 161) that the probability µ is a fraction, the denominator
of which is the number of mutually exclusive, equally probable cases
in which the assumptions A, B, C, D, ... all become true, and whose
numerator is the number of these cases in which M as well as A, B, C,
D, ... come out true. Thus if we designate the number of cases in which
M is true by m and the total number of cases by m + n, we have 11\ = lll1fl
'~ ,
and the probability of Neg.Mis = 111 : 11 • Thus the difference between
the two, designated above as 2µ - 1, is = ;;:~;:. Hence we can say that
the degree of confidence with which we form a judgement can be found
by calculating the differences between the number of mutually exclusive
cases in which the judgement becomes true and the number of cases in
which it becomes false, divided by their sum.
3) This mode of calculation gives a value of zero for the confidence
of a proposition whose probability equals one-half. This indicates that
we do not judge at all, which is as things should be according to no. 1.
If the degree of probability µ of a proposition M is smaller than one-half,
211 - 1 or ;;:~;: will be negative, and its size will vary directly with the 285
difference between n and m. If we calculate the degree of confidence
we would attach to Neg.Min this case, we find that it is;;;;_;:. But since
;;,~;: = - ;;:~;:, we see that a negative value for the degree of confidence
simply indicates that we no longer form the judgement M, but instead
form Neg .M with the same, but positive, degree of confidence.
4) If a proposition Mis deducible from premises A,B, C, D, ... and if
we have these premises currently in mind, and consider them true, then,
according to § 161, the degree of probability M for us should never be
191
 THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE§. 320.
smaller but somewhat larger than the product ax ~ x y x 5 x · · · . If we
are afraid that we might be mistaken in the judgement that M is deducible
from A,B,C,D, ... , then the degree of probability will be somewhat
lower. Hence on balance the probability of a conclusion will rarely be
much larger; rather, it will usually be somewhat smaller than the product
of the probabilities of all its premises. Only if this product is larger than
one-half will the judgement M actually be formed. If this product is equal
to one-half, we will not judge at all, and if it is smaller than one-half we
will form the judgement Neg.M.
5) If everything is as above, but M is not deducible from A, B, C, D, ...
but only receives the degree of probability µ from them, then we will form
judgement M with a degree of confidence proportionate to the degree of
probability ofµ x a x ~ x y x 5 x · · · .
6) Consider a number of partial reasons, each of which bestows acer-
286 tain probability upon proposition M. No matter how large the number of
these partial reasons is, no perfect confidence for judgement M can result
from them, though a moral confidence can arise, which can approximate
perfect confidence as closely as desired. For, the degree of confidence
with which we form judgement M depends upon the degree of absolute
probability which this proposition has for us. But, according to § 161, this
will never attain perfect certainty, i.e., unity, though it can come as close
to it as desired. But ifµ cannot equal 1, though it can approximate 1 as
closely as desired, 2µ - 1, i.e., the degree of confidence, can also never be
equal to 1, although it can approximate this value as closely as desired.
Note. What has been said will suffice to make clear the difference
between the concepts of probability, including the sense defined in §318,
and the concept of confidence. Probability is always an attribute belong-
ing to propositions as such, whether or not they are taken for true or even
mentally represented; hence it can be divided into known and unknown
probability. On the other hand, confidence is always an attribute of judge-
ments that have been formed. Hence, with respect to one and the same
proposition M and to one and the same thinking being, we can distinguish
several kinds and degrees of probability, but not several kinds and degrees
of confidence. The necessity of distinguishing the confidence with which
we form a judgement, and the probability of the proposition itself, and
of assigning different values to their respective degrees is particularly ap-
parent in cases where the probability is less than or equal to one-half.
Assume that we are told that in an urn there are ten black, ten white, and
ten red balls. It will certainly not occur to us to form the judgement that
192
Of Certainty, Probability and Confidence in Judgements
somebody who picks a ball at random will draw a black one. Similarly,
we will not want to judge that he will pick a white one or a red one. What-
ever reason we might have for forming one judgement, we have the same
reason for forming another; nonetheless, it is obvious that we cannot ac- 287
cept all three of them, since they are contrary propositions. Hence we
form none of them. Calculation shows that the degree of probability for
each of them is one-third. Now if we did not distinguish between the
degree of probability of a proposition and the degree of confidence with
which we form the corresponding judgement, we would have to form all
three judgements, each of them with a confidence of one-third, which
is quite absurd. Given the concept of confidence that I have introduced
here and its mode of calculation, everything is explained properly. The
degree of confidence for each of the three judgements is 2 ·1- 1= 1,
which shows that we form none of these judgements, but only the three
negations (which are compatible with each other, each with a degree of
confidence which equals + 1). But it could be objected that nonetheless
the drawing of a black (likewise of a white or a red) ball is not impossi-
ble, but expected; consequently, if somebody were to claim the opposite,
namely, that no black ball will be drawn, if he wanted to wager more than
two to one on it, we would contradict him and perhaps accept his offer of
a wager in the hope of a gain, all of which might be said to prove that the
judgement that a black ball will be drawn has not been completely given
up. I reply that to contradict somebody who does not want to admit that
a black ball will be drawn, and to engage in a wager with him, does not
require that we should believe that such a ball will be drawn; rather, it
will suffice for this that we form the judgement that the indicated propo-
sition (namely, that a black ball will be drawn) has a degree of probability
of one-third. But this judgement is quite different from the judgement
that a black ball will be drawn. The former not merely has probability,
but it is deducible from the premises by means of a perfect deduction,
and therefore has as much certainty as they have. As I become more and
more clear about this distinction between probability and confidence, I
find it more and more surprising that all previous writers on the subject 288
have never clearly made this distinction.
§.321.*
Knowledge and belief
There are two important states of our mind with respect to our own judge-
ments, states which (if I understand them correctly) have to do with a
193
 THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE§. 321.
consideration of the confidence with which we are attached to a given
judgement; they do not depend upon the degree of this confidence, but
rather on whether or not we are able to destroy this confidence. Suppose
that a truth M, either immediately or after we pay attention to its grounds,
has become so evident to us that we assume we could not persuade our-
selves of the opposite even if we wanted to. In other words, we think
that it is not in our power to destroy the confidence with which we are at-
tached to judgement M. In this case I should like to call truth Man item of
knowledge [Wissen]. For example, we obtain such knowledge of the truth
of the Pythagorean theorem once we have been exposed to its proofs. For
now we know the truth of this proposition in a way that assures us that we
could not persuade ourselves of its falsity even if we tried. On the other
hand, consider a proposition M which we take to be true, but of which
we do not have knowledge. In this case it does not seem impossible that
we could come to form the opposite judgement, Neg .M, by concentrating
our attention on true or apparent reasons against M. In such a case I call
the relation between our mind and proposition M a belief in this propo-
sition, provided we intend to continue to pay attention to the grounds for
the truth of M. For example, I believe that the heavenly bodies are pop-
289 ulated, since I have decisive reasons to form this judgement, although I
do not doubt that, if I wanted, it would be possible for me to persuade
myself of the contrary. Hence knowledge is a relation of our faculty of
judgement to a given proposition which is initially, but not permanently,
dependent upon our decisions; belief, on the other hand, depends upon
our will not only at its inception, but permanently; hence it also desig-
nates a relation of our attitude to the proposition in question. Usually, the
degree of confidence is higher in the case of knowledge than in the case
of belief, but there are also cases where the confidence of a belief does
not fall behind that of knowledge. This is usually the case with our belief
in God. A belief which has a lower degree of confidence is usually called
an opinion, or taking something to be true. Moreover, with respect to
the firmness of our resolution to keep the grounds for our proposition in
mind, we can distinguish a solid and a wavering belief, with respect to the
ground which produced this resolution, we can distinguish a reasonable,
moral, as well as a foolish or immoral belief and, finally, with respect to
its object (i.e., whether it is a conceptual or an empirical proposition) a
theoretical or an historical belief.
Note. The concepts which I have here assigned to knowledge and be-
lief seem to me not only important and worthy of a special name, but
194
Of Certainty, Probability and Confidence in Judgements
also adequate to the meaning which common usage connects with these
words. KANT' s definition is of course quite different, since it describes
opining, believing, and knowing as three essentially different modes of
taking something to be true. He says that the ground of an opinion is nei-
ther objectively nor subjectively adequate, that of a belief subjectively,
but not objectively, and that of an item of knowledge both objectively and
subjectively adequate (Log. and K. d. r: V). I should like to call grounds
merely subjective if they appear to be grounds to the person forming the
judgement, irrespective of whether or not he followed correct rules of
thought, but objective if they still appear to be grounds in cases where 290
the rules employed were correct (see above, §319, note). But then it is
strange to say that "what I believe I do not hold to be objectively, but only
subjectively necessary (for me)." It seems to me that if I become aware
that I accepted something on the basis of incorrect rules of thought, then
I can no longer believe it. Other passages (e.g., Log., Ak., 9.72) lead us
to believe that grounds are called subjective if they are "derived from the
nature and interest of the subject." But then it would have to be permissi-
ble to claim that we do not know, but merely opine or believe, that we are
hungry and thirsty; for is it not obvious that the grounds upon which we
base such judgements are derived from the nature and the interest of the
person judging? But since no one will accept this, we must understand
by subjective grounds not merely judgements but rather certain other at-
tributes of the judging being that lead it to form the judgement. Others
seem indeed to have taken this view. Thus in KIESEWETTER' s W A. d. L
(I, p. 473), we read: "subjective grounds are intentions, aims, interests."
KRUG (Fund., §93) acids inclinations, needs and testimony to this list.
But here I recall KANT'S remark (L., Ak., 9.73-74) that our wish or will
in and of itself cannot produce belief. Rather, only when certain (genuine
or apparent) grounds are present and we willingly direct our attention to-
wards them does belief occur; and in the end it is the grounds which give
rise to the belief. Accordingly, every opinion produced through subjective
grounds would be nothing other than what I have called a judgement gen-
erated by self-persuasion (§306, no. 14). And in fact, we read in the Cri-
tique of Pure Reason (A8820/B848): "If opinion has its ground merely
in the peculiar constitution of the subject, it is called persuasion." But
now I ask: how can one speak of such subjective grounds as sufficient'? 291
It seems to me that a ground can only be called sufficient if it alone suf-
fices to produce belief. Yet this can never be said of a mere wish. Nor
do I understand, finally, how under this definition the three well-known
195
 THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE§. 321.

. 1 po.stulates, (see
prac t1ca , above ' §315
. - ' no · 8) could be presented
. as matters Book Four:
of belief. In essence, one makes the inference: "The highest good must
, ··bl e. It is, only possible if God exists. . Thus God exists." ..Now
b e possi
THE ART OF DISCOVERY
where in the premises of this argument (supposmg them all to be couect)
§.322.*
is there something which is merely subjective? .
FRIES (S. d. L., p. 451) says that "Belief in the logical sense is the
Purpose, contents, and divisions of this book
acceptance of an opinion only because I am mo:e? by interest to for~1 a
judaement with respect to it, e.g., when the physician must treat a patier~t
Given that I declared right from the start that for me logic is nothing other
eve~ though the outcome is doubtful." I deny that we are ever necessi- than a theory of science, i.e., instruction on how one should go about di-
tated to de~ide for or against a doubtful proposition M merely i~ or~er to
viding the entire domain of human knowledge into individual sciences
be able to act. I say that in order to act, and act rationally, nothmg is re-
and composing suitable treatises of these, it will be readily understood
quired but a deliberation whether the probabil~ty of M is large en?u.gh to that I only consider parts of the theory of the way in which one should
take certain measures appropriate under the circumstances. If this is the
proceed in order to discover truth to belong to logic. The rules of the lat-
case, and if we take these measures, then it is said, improperly, ~hat we
ter belong to logic, namely, only if they either stand in close connection to
have decided in favour of M, whereas a rational person takes special care
rules which must be observed in the pursuit of the two goals mentioned
before he makes such a decision. The example of the physician shows this
above, or else are necessary to understand them. Thus not all the rules
clearly: though he takes steps for one possible outcome, he also prepares
which must be observed if one wishes to be successful in the search for
for others. truth will be considered here, but rather only those that relate to the way
In the metaphysical sense FRIES distinguishes knowlec'.ge, belief m~d
we conduct our thinking, and are in addition generally applicable. I say
sentiment [Ahnung] as three modes of conviction of ~h1ch the first. 1s
that a rule applies to our conduct in thinking if it only deals with how
said to derive from intuition, the second without intuition, and the third
our thought, but not the rest of our behaviour, must be guided in order
from feelings without definite concepts. It is obvious why I cannot a~ree
to progress in the search for new truths. And because the truths in a sci- 294
with these definitions. It is generally acknowledged that mathematical
ence should be presented in a way that is both readily comprehensible and
cognitions can become an object of knowledge, y~t in my view they are
convincing, it is understandable that many such rules are either applied or
not based upon intuition. Fmthermore, I do not thmk (the m:~der ~!ready
must be presupposed when giving instruction on scientific presentation.
knows why) that there are cognitions which proceed from feelmgs 111 such
For the train of thought through which we become convinced of a pre-
292 a way that it is altogether impossible to reduce them to clear c.oncepts (as
viously unknown truth is often, if not always, the most suitable way of
FRIES teaches). One will gather how to evaluate a number of other defi-
bringing others to recognise this truth. It is not the same with the other
nitions based on what has been said here, e.g., those of the late HERMES
rules governing our conduct that belong in a complete instruction on how
(Einl. z. Theo!., p. 257 ff.) or MARHEINEKE (Dogm.). !ROXL.ER (Log:, to discover new truths, e.g., the development of our heart, the employ-
II, . 351-409) makes a big fuss (as he alone can) of his special undet-
sta~ding of the concept of belief. I will admit that I haven~t und~rstood ment of our senses, recourse to the instruction of others, and so on. In the
present book, one will find hardly any applications of such rules, which
him. Belief is supposed to be "a holding to be true and certam, which h<:~S
are in any case only serviceable as a kind of preparation for it. Thus if
much similarity with immediate cognition but also with mediate cog~1-
I do mention some such rules, it is only on account of the context and
tion; it is, so to speak, an idea which has become intertwined (sic!) with
their importance. Furthermore, I say that the rules I shall discuss have a
293 its object." Understand that if you can! general application if it can be useful to observe them not only for finding
a single truth, but rather many truths belonging to diverse fields of human
knowledge. It is plain as clay that in a treatise oflogic one can only ask for
such rules. For a precept which is useful only for finding either a single

196 197
 THE ART OF D£SCOVERY §. 323.
truth, or several truths belonging to one and the same science, can pre-
cisely for this reason be applied only in the elaboration of that particular
science, and thus belongs at most to the logic of that science. Among the
rules which are suitable for the discovery of many truths in diverse fields
of human knowledge, only a very few are so widely useful that they can
295 be applied in every kind of inquiry. Hence the present instruction may be
divided into two parts: the general, containing the rules to be observed
in every inquiry, and the particular, which teaches one how to proceed in
the most common special kinds of inquiry.
Concerning the benefit the reader may expect from this book, the
above should suffice. I in no way believe myself able to point out pro-
cedures to be followed in reflection which have not been long observed
by every competent thinker, nor do I promise anything novel. Rather, I
have striven to set out in clear terms the various rules and procedures that
talented thinkers have followed, for the most part without being aware of
doing so. And although I do not flatter myself with the hope that I have
been completely successful in this, I nevertheless believe that the little one
finds here will not be unwelcome to many, and shall find its application
in the sequel. I recognise that the title of this book promises rather too
much. But what other choice did I have? Heuristic says the same thing,
only in Greek. Topic is not only less appropriate on account of its orig-
inal meaning, but also suggests a foreign associated concept-for Topic
seems to be only a special kind of art of discovery, perhaps arranged in
tabular form.
§.323.
The concept of reflection, in particular of reflection
aimed at the discovery of new truths
We must begin by determining the concept of reflection somewhat more
precisely. If we ask what is commonly understood by this word, nothing
is more obvious than that in all reflection a certain orderly sequence of
296 ideas and judgements must occur. A soul wherein several ideas are not
present at the same time, or where ideas follow each other in such a way
that one has disappeared before the next begins; a soul which does not
form judgements with these ideas, or develop further judgements from
the former, will be said by no one to reflect. But it would be quite incor-
rect to believe that this suffices to fix the concept of reflection. For ideas
and indeed judgements are constantly formed in our souls even though
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THE ART OF DISCOVERY
we do not continually reflect. No one can say that our soul is enaaaedb b
in reflection if the ideas or judgements which appear in our soul follow
each other without the participation of our will, occasioned simply by the
impressions of outer objects, or as prompted by the associations prevail-
ing in our soul; nor if our will has an influence on the sequence of ideas
and judgements, but does not aim at the production of a certain kind of
judgement, e.g., if we pay more attention to ideas which we find pleasant
than to others, without intending to form certain judgements. For all of
this occurs when we dream. In all cases of reflection it is required that
we awaken ideas and judgements in ourselves with the determinate and
conscious intention of arriving at a judgement which is constituted in a
certain way. One may, for example, say that someone reflects when he
strives to convince himself that such and such is true. For he produces
ideas and judgements in himself with the determinate intention of being
able in the end to form the judgement that such and such is true. We also
say that someone reflects when he calculates. For he allows ideas and
judgements to arise within him in order to know a certain truth, namely,
that which determines the quantity to be calculated. From these and other 297
examples, one sees that in all reflection we have an intention to produce a
judgement that we cannot always completely determine in advance, but of
which we nevertheless have fixed certain attributes-e.g., the object the
judgement concerns or that it should be a true judgement, etc. But it also
depends upon the means we use to produce these ideas and judgements.
For if the ideas we use for our purposes are produced by the impressions
of certain external objects, it may well be that although we reflect, we
also do something else, which ordinary usage distinguishes from reflec-
tion: we perceive. Thus the question arises of the nature of the influence
of the will on our ideas in all cases of reflection, even cases of pure reflec-
tion. Should we say that it is only pure reflection if the influence that our
will exercises on our ideas is not mediated by any external object (i.e.,
one distinct from our soul); or, what amounts to the same, when we make
no use of objects distinct from the soul in order to produce the ideas, and
through these the judgements, we aim at? Yet this would be an excessive
restriction of the concept; for is not almost all the influence that our will
has on the nature of our ideas mediated by our body, and thus by some-
thing distinct from the soul? Could it not be the case that whether or not
We are conscious of it, every time we direct our attention to one of our
~<leas with the intention of keeping it longer before the mind or raising
It to a higher degree of vividness an effect is produced in our body, a
199
 THE ART OF DISCOVERY§. 323.
change in our mental organ? Thus if the only cases of pure reflection that
we recognised were those in which our will does not act through any outer
298 objects distinct from our soul in order to procure the ideas we require, we
could in fact never speak of pure reflection. We must therefore consider a
measured broadening of this definition; and the observation we just made
can easily lead to the thought that in pure reflection it is at most permis-
sible to act upon our own body, though not upon any other object distinct
from it. Yet it soon appears that this determination would be incorrect; for
according to it all observations and experiments which a man can perform
with and on his own body would have to be reckoned as pure reflection,
something which would certainly contradict accepted usage. After some
consideration, it should be clear to everyone that it is not a matter of the
object upon which our will acts, but rather the way this action occurs,
namely, whether we are conscious of this action or not. Actions which
we perform either on our body or else through it on other bodies, pro-
vided that we are unaware of them, in no way prevent one from calling
the state of our soul one of pure, calm reflection. If, e.g., someone in his
reflection audibly pronounces a few words without being aware of doing
so, or raises his hand to his brow, he certainly brought about changes in
his own body; but we would hardly say he was doing anything other than
thinking. Only when such actions are perfotmed with the determinate
intention of producing or sustaining ideas of a certain sort, would ordi-
nary usage say that his activity was something more than mere reflection.
Mere reflection is that activity of our mind through which we-without
making conscious and intentional use of the mediation of outer things-
produce ideas and judgements in ourselves that we consider necessary in
order finally to arrive at a judgement we seek.
If this definition is correct, the question arises whether we should re-
299 tain the received concept, or else allow ourselves to modify it somewhat.
I in fact find no reason to define it more broadly or more narrowly. To
narrow it, perhaps by excluding even the unconscious activity of our will
on outer objects, would obviously not bring the slightest advantage, yet
would create the difficulty that we would be unable to say that such pure
reflection ever occurs in human beings. To broaden it by counting cases of
conscious and deliberate action on the external world as reflection would
entail that we would have to deal with all the laws governing this kind of
action. Our instruction would certainly be more complete, but it would
also be much more voluminous, and this multiplication of rules would
do little to serve the end which is our principal concern here. It should
200
THE ART OF DISCOVERY
be noted, however, that even on the definition given above the concept of
reflection is still so broad that it leaves the nature of the judgement we
wish to bring about completely indeterminate. Thus there can even be
kinds of reflection where it is not required that the judgement at which
one finally arrives be true. Reflection which does aim at a true judgement
I shall call reflection directed towards or in search of truth. It is evident
that the rules which must be followed in such reflection must be quite dif-
ferent from those where truth is not our goal. Yet even reflection directed
towards truth must be completely different depending upon whether the
truth in question is already known to us, but not present to the mind,
or else new and unknown. In the former case, where we wish to recall
a judgement we made previously, our reflection may more precisely be
called recollection or recall. It is governed by rules I do not intend to go 300
into here, since they have no application to the ultimate goal of this book,
namely, to develop the rules which must be followed in elaborating sci-
ences. Thus there remains the case of reflection aimed at the discovery*
of new truths. Now it is clear that the circumstance whether the truth we
seek is unknown only to us, or to all other people as well, alters nothing in
the way we must go about our own reflection-that is, unless we wanted
and were able to turn to others for instruction. In this case, however, the
rules to be observed would no longer have anything to do with pure reflec-
tion, and since they are so far removed from our goal, we may pass over
them. According to what has been said, then, all reflection of which we
shall henceforth speak will have the aim of producing a cognition in our
consciousness which was not previously present there. I shall say that we
find this cognition, and discover the truth which is its matter. So long as
it remains unknown, I shall call it the object or aim of our reflection, the
problem set for our reflection, and the question before us. The discovery
shall be called the solution to this problem or the answer to our question.
If the truth we seek in our reflection is not sought with the definite inten-
tion of applying it in some foreseeable way, but rather only because the
truth will produce some benefit, be this only that of providing exercise
in thinking or the pleasure of discovery; and if, moreover, the truth we 301
*I point out here once and for all that I-despite the difference observed in common
usage between the words discover [Entdecken] and create [Elfinden]-consider these
terms equivalent when applied to truths. I call someone who first recognises a previously
unknown truth both its discoverer and its creator. The former is appropriate because the
truth is there even if no one recognises it, while the latter is appropriate insofar as the
recognition of this truth among men began with him, which is why we may call him the
creator.
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 THE ART OF DISCOVERY§. 324. THE ART OF DISCOVERY

seek as well as the propositions we seek to derive it from are all purely without awareness of rules is called a mere way of doing something (and
conceptual propositions, we call the reflection spernlation. Truths found when this is highly peculiar, a :,11ecial style or manner of doing some-
through speculation are called speculative truths and people who enjoy thing), one can also say that the knowledge of the sort of rules we shall
and are good at speculation are called speculative thinkers. deal with here is what makes methodical reflection possible. Without
§.324. such knowledge, all reflection would follow a mere style or manner.
Note. There is perhaps no reason to fear that the above definition of
The concept of instructions for thinking the concept of a methodical procedure will be contested; that my concept
of a manner includes the notion of a peculiarity may also be accepted,
All reflection, as we have just seen, is a complex mental activity com-
since common usage obviously requires this. But from this derives the
posed of several individual actions as its parts, undertaken with a deter-
necessity of a concept which is higher than that of a manner, namely, that 303
minate and conscious aim. With every activity, however, and indeed in
of a procedure which does not follow rules, regardless of whether it is
every change which is not completely uniform, one may ask for a more
highly peculiar or not. Since I know of no word which is used uniquely
precise indication of its nature and the way it is performed. Propositions
to designate this concept, I permitted myself to use the word style for this
that determine (truthfully or otherwise) this nature are usually called the
purpose. For at least in certain cases, e.g., the expression style of life, we
(correct or incorrect) laws of such changes. Thus the proposition that any
actually use the word in this sense. 304
freely falling body traverses spaces which increase as the square of the
times is called a law of this kind of motion. If the change can occur in dif-
ferent ways, and need not always have the same result, one may ask how it
must occur if a pat1icular outcome is to occur. Propositions determining
this (either truthfully or otherwise) may be called (correct or incorrect)
laws for this outcome. Thus in medicine one sets out laws which describe
the course of an illness for the case where it is not fatal; these may be
called the laws of development of this illness in cases of recovery. If the
302 change belongs to the class of those which depend in whole or in part on
the choice of a rational being, one may ask about the individual volitions
this being must form in order to produce the given outcome. Propositions
that answer this question, i.e., those which determine the course of action
required to bring about a certain outcome, when the former depends upon
someone's choice, bear the name of precepts or rules for the attainment
of this outcome. A collection of several precepts or rules of this kind is
called a set of instructions or a method; and if these are correct and suf-
ficiently numerous to determine the required behaviour completely, the
instructions are called correct and complete. From this one may gather
what I mean by instructions for reflection aimed at the discovery of new
truths, and the individual rules which make up this instruction. Attributes
of reflection independent of the thinker's choice I need not for that very
reason discuss, but I do have to mention all those we can give to our re-
flection, at least in pa11, merely by earnestly intending to do so. Since
every procedure a rational being establishes according to rules he consid-
ers correct is called a methodical procedure, while a procedure followed

202 203
 THE ART OF DISCOVERY

PART I for example, the widest determination we could reasonably specify if we

demanded nothing other than the discovery of some previously unknown
General Rules truth which is either worth learning or useful. A determination of the
narrowest sort, one which covers only a single truth, would be if we set
0 ut to decide whether or not a given proposition M was true. Another case
§.325.* where the sought truth is not so precisely determined occurs when we
consider two ideas A and B and demand that a truth be inclicatecl in which
I. Exact determination qf' the tntth we actually seek, without
these two ideas are united into a single proposition through the mediation
rejecting truths ivhich present themselves unbidden
of a purely logical concept, e.g., "Every A is B", or "No A is B" or "The 306
idea [A]b has objectuality", etc. Often we only specify the object that the
1) Since the number of truths is infinite, we may neither demand nor hope
sought truth is supposed to concern, i.e., the subject-idea of the truth, and
to learn them all. Rather, we must be satisfied with the knowledge of a
demand of the predicate only that it represent an attribute of this subject
part of these which is always finite and rather small. Obviously it is not a
which was previously unknown to us and noteworthy. More often, not
matter of indifference to us which of these infinitely many truths fill the
even the object the truth is supposed to concern is fully specified; instead,
limited measure of our cognitive faculties. For even if it should happen
we merely indicate a concept it stands under, i.e., we indicate the kind of
that there is no completely useless and still less a genuinely harmful truth
thing it is supposed to be.
(and there is still much dispute about this), it is nevertheless certain that
2) Some might object to this first rule that experience teaches us that
there are degrees of usefulness and needfulness in knowledge; and if the
we make the most fortunate discoveries by chance, i.e., on occasions
apprehension of one truth prevents us from learning another which would
where we were occupied with something else entirely. I admit this, but
have been more beneficial, it can at least be said to be relatively harmful.
I point out that such experiences do not show that our rule is useless.
Although it is not certain that we will discover a certain kind of truth
For although experience teaches us that we often find most useful truths
merely because we undertake to look for it, it is understandable that we
without seeking them, it also teaches that we often find through seek-
are m~re likely to find it if we search assiduously for it than if we simply
ing. Actually, it is generally only the first, crude thought that chance
leave it to chance to determine which truth we are or are not led to. For, as
delivers. For this to be useful, we must pursue it further, and connect a
305 ~as already been noted several times, our will has a great, though indirect,
number of other truths with it, all of which can only happen through de-
mfluence on the origin, duration and vividness of our ideas, and hence on
liberate reflection. Thus the necessity of such reflection remains beyond
our judgements. From these considerations comes the first rule which
a doubt. Thus the above objection does not refute the given rule, but it
should always be observed in reflection aimed at the discovery of truth:
does require us to acid the following precision: one should never reject
First of all, establish in detail the nature of the truth we wish to discovet:
a previously unknown truth which simply presents itself merely because
What is required here is a judgement of the form which I called questions
one set out to make discoveries of a completely different kind; i.e., one
in § 145; and the truth we seek is the answer belonging to this question
should never utterly ignore it if it is noteworthy or has the appearance qf'
(§ 163). Accordingly, we can also express the above rule as follows: In
something which might lead to the discovery of other noteworthy truths.
all reflection, one must begin by establishing the question which is to be
The observation of this last rule may be the main reason why i1;clividual 307
answered. If the determination of the object of our reflection is quite vivid
men sometimes make the most beautiful discoveries in the most diverse
(and it is obvious that it will be more effective, the more vivid it is) we
fields of knowledge. We find that they are generally people who are ac-
must be clearly conscious of it: we must represent to ourselves our desire
customed to ignoring nothing, to asking themselves at every opportunity
to discover a truth of such and such a kind and, if need be, we must be in a
what is to be learned, to taking up every hint they receive, no matter what
position to express this desire in words. The ways in which we determine
its source, and using it as a basis for reflection. Before ARCHIMEDES
the truth we seek may be quite varied, in that we may specify an attribute
bathers must have perceived that their arms were easier to lift in wate;.
that belongs either to many, a few, or only to a single truth. It would be,

204 205
 THE ART OF DISCOVERY§. 326. General Rules

than out; but since they reflected no further on the matter, he was the first uestion whether or not it could be answered. But I at least know of
to discover the law of the equilibrium of floating bodies. ~o means that could be generally applied to this encl: On the contrary, I
believe that there are questions which we only recogmse as unanswerable
§.326.*
on the basis of results, i.e., only because, despite all our striving, we 309
II. Preliminary consideration (~f whether an.s·tvering the question have never found a satisfactory answer do we realise that such an_ answ~r
before us is impossible either as such orfor us is beyond the grasp of our powers. It lies within the nature of certam
kinds of questions that we can only discover that they are unanswerable
1) It not seldom occurs that we hit upon questions, or others ask us ques-
by vainly attempting to answer them. Most ~istorical que~tions when
tions, which either cannot be answered in and of themselves, or else can-
first raised are of this sort if they concern a subject about which we have
not be answered given the limited powers and means at our disposal for
various historical data which, if compared, might furnish the information
the recognition of truth. Now if the question we seek to answer through
we seek, e.g., the year of Jesus' birth.
reflection is of this sort, we will not only fail to reach the goal of our
3) The examples cited in no. 1 show that there are also cases for which
reflection, we will also run the risk of falling into many errors. For if
a preliminary investigation easily establishes that a question c~nnot be
we incorrectly assume that the question before us can be answered, and
answered either in itself or by us. Prudence thus counsels that tvzth eve1y
indeed answered by us, it is to be feared that we will sooner or later
question we set ourselves, provided it is not a preliminary questi~n, we
persuade ourselves that we have truly found it, something which cannot
should first investigate whether we can notice any feature from whzch the
happen unless we are deceived. The proposition we take to be an answer
impossibility of an answer (either generally or for us) follows. .
to our question may be false, it may be not an answer to our question or,
4) Prudence counsels us to make this inquiry, but does not reqmre us
308 in the most favourable case, where the proposition is true and contains the
to persist in it until it succeeds, i.e., not to proceed to the examination ~f
correct answer to our question, there is still an elTor, in that we imagine
the question we originally set ourselves until we have fully answered this
that we have grasped the truth of the proposition as well as the fact that
preliminary question. No, if consideration of this preliminary question
it correctly answers our question on the basis of reasons. If one were to
reveals that it would be harder to answer than the question we originally
ask oneself, for example, how old the world is (i.e., how many years have
set ourselves, or that it can only be answered by successful or unsuccess-
passed since the creation), and to answer that it is six thousand years old,
ful attempts to answer the original question, it would be foolish to waste
then the proposition would be false, provided that by the word "world"
more time on it.
one meant not just the human race or the earth, but the collection of all fi-
5) In certain cases it may be expedient to switch our attention back
nite beings. If one asked what organic feature of bees was responsible for
and forth between the given question and the question about whether it 310
the fact that bees build hexagonal cells, and responded that they do this
can be answered. The problem of the trisection of the angle, for example,
instinctively, this proposition would indeed be true, but it would not be an
is of this kind. Here the discovery of the impossibility of a solution would
answer to the given question, which asked for something quite different.
be just as noteworthy as a solution, and both must be sought along the
Finally, if one asked in what season Adam was created, and replied that
same path.
this happened in Spring (in the Northern hemisphere); this might just hap-
6) Sometimes we also have the benefit of discovering that our present
pen to be true, and if so, would be an appropriate answer to this question.
knowledge does not suffice to answer the question before us through re-
Yet one would err in thinking that he had proved the truth of this claim.
flection alone, but that instead new experiences and experiments are nec-
All of these errors could have been avoided if one had considered that
essary. A chemist, for example, can know in advance that, given the
these questions cannot be answered: the first in and of itself, the second
present state of his science, a question about the effects of combining
given the present level of our knowledge of bees, and the third given the
two kinds of matter cannot be answered by reflection unless some new
complete lack of historical reports on the matter in question.
experiments are performed.
2) One gathers from this that it would be very desirable to have a
means which would permit us to know before we begin to look into a

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 THE ART OF DISCOVERY§. 327. General Rules

§.327.* 3) Thus it is a matter of providing instrnctions on how this reduction

of a given question to others which are easier to answer can be accom-
Ill. Taking up suitable preliminary questions plished. By my reckoning there are only t~o ways of doing thi:. (a) ~he 312
first is that we take a close look at the attnbutes a, b, c, d, ... of the tn~th
1) Only in the rarest cases are we in a position immediately to discover
to be discovered which are explicitly mentioned in the problem, and m-
the truth our problem requires. What we cannot accomplish immedi-
uire whether these might be derived from others v., p, y, ... which taken
ately, however, we can often accomplish by first seeking several other
truths which are so constituted that their possession, and indeed some-
~aether have the same extension as the former. If we succeed in this, it is
o:Vious that we have reduced the question about a truth which possesses
times merely the search for them, promises to facilitate the discovery of
attributes a,b,c,d, ... to one about a truth with attributes v., p, y ... .
the truth we really seek. Problems which we set ourselves with this aim
If it happens that the attributes v., p, y, ... are more easily recognised
in mind, i.e., in order to pave the way towards the solution of another
characteristics of the sought truth than the originally given a, b, c, d, ... ,
problem, I call preliminary questions or problems. By contrast, I call
then we have gained something by this reduction. Suppose, for example,
the problem for whose sake we occupy ourselves with these preliminary
we had set ourselves the problem of discovering the highest moral law.
questions the original or main question or problem. Thus in the case of
The question itself contains (by dint of the definition of the concept of the
every problem we are not able to solve immediately it will be appropriate
highest moral law) the determination that the sought truth must be a prac-
to inquire whether we might not succeed in devising one or several de-
tic:11 proposition from which all other practical truths follow objectively,
cidedly easier problems, which are so constituted that if we solve them,
aiven a purely theoretical minor premise. It might well be quite hard to
311 the solution of the original problem will follow of itself. When we have b .
find this truth immediately by means of this attribute. Some reflection,
shown that a problem can be solved once one or several others have been,
however, allows us to derive several other attributes from this one. If the
I shall say that the former has been reduced to the latter. Thus I say that
highest moral law is to be a practical truth, it must require some action
mathematicians have reduced the question "How heavy is the earth?" to
or other; and if all other practical truths can be derived from this one as
that of how heavy this or that mountain is, since they have shown how an
consequences from their ground, the highest moral law must require this
answer to the first yields an answer to the second.
action without exception, i.e., not merely under a condition (whether this
2) If the question to which a given question is reduced is no easier
be explicitly stated or tacit), as in the proposition "You should do M, pro-
to answer, then we have indeed gained nothing for our attempt to answer
vided that this does not prevent X ." This circumstance suggests a more
the latter. Yet the connections we learn of in this way between many
easily recognisable characteristic through which we may find the highest
still unknown truths sometimes furnish quite remarkable truths. Thus
moral law. For if we now make an appropriate survey of all the possi-
the question of whether the heavenly bodies move in trajectories that are
ble ways of acting, and consider these in order, we soon find that with a
constantly moving closer together might be reduced to the question of
single exception all are either required only conditionally or else not at 313
whether the space in which they move is filled with matter; and even
all. Even in the case where the attributes v., p, y, ... , which we derive
if the latter question is no easier to answer than the first, the truth one
from the given a, b, c, d, ... , have a wider extension, and hence do
expresses here (namely, that the former would be a consequence of the
not alone suffice for the determination of the sought truth, it may still be
latter) is already noteworthy in itself. Now if we first attempt many such
useful to consider them. We may find ourselves in a position to greatly
reductions, it is to be hoped that among them we will find one through
reduce the number of propositions among which the required truth is to
which the solution of the original question can be made to depend upon
be sought, and hence to make this search easier. Suppose, for example,
the solution of several other, easier ones. The reduction mentioned in
we were given the problem of finding common divisors for the two num-
no. l provides one example of this. For it would not be impossible to
bers 2n + 1 and 2m. From the circumstance that one is odd and the other
determine approximately the weight of an individual mountain, perhaps
even, we may immediately gather that no even number will provide a so-
by measuring its volume and the density of the material one finds by
lution, and accordingly search for factors of 2m, or indeed m, which also
digging in its interior.

208 209
 THE ART OF DISCOVERY§. 327.
divide 2n + 1. (b) The second means is to think about the various ways in
which a proposition like the sought truth X may be derived from others
Y, Z, .... For if we find that a proposition of the form X can be deduced
from propositions of the known forms Y,Z, ... , then it is easy to find X
as soon as we have truths of the forms Y,Z, .... The problem of finding
X is thereby reduced to that of indicating truths standing under the forms
Y,Z, ... ; and clearly the latter is often easier to solve than the former.
Suppose, for example, we were assigned the problem of discovering the
distance between two places, when no straight path leads from one to the
other. We begin by considering the various ways there are of determin-
ing distance. It then occurs to us that the third side of a triangle (and
thus a distance) may be calculated when we are given the other two sides
and the angle they include. The problem of finding AB is thus reduced
to those of finding the distances AC and BC and the angle ACB, where C
is an arbitrary third location. If now there is a location C connected to
314 A and B by straight paths, and we know how to measure the angle ACB,
then we know how to solve the latter three problems and, through them,
the main problem. Concerning the various ways in which a truth of the
form of the sought X can be deduced from others, the first we should look
for among all the truths already known to us is a hypothetical one with X
as its consequent. Every truth of this form, e.g., "If A, B, C, ... , then
X" indicates a way for us to transform the problem of finding the truth
X into one of finding the truths A, B, C, .... Suppose we had to answer
the question whether the planets are attracted by the sun, and we had the
theorem "If one body moves around another in such a way that the line
connecting them describes equal areas in equal times, then it moves as it
would if so attracted." This theorem would give us the means of deciding
whether this attraction occurred or not. If we know of no such hypotheti-
cal proposition, we ask whether one can be found. Thus we reflect about
whether we know a truth that bears great similarity to the sought truth X.
If we find several of these, we try to remember how we came to know
them. We may well be able to find X in a similar fashion. In order, for
example, to answer the question of whether the moon has an atmosphere
and how far this extends, it will occur to us that we already know a similar
truth, namely, how far the atmosphere of the earth extends. We may then
see whether any of the means used to learn the latter may be applied to
determine the former.
4) It should not be forgotten, however, that dealing with prelimi-
nary questions can also be useful even if the main question cannot be
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reduced to them. The consideration of some preliminary questions is
useful merely because they introduce the subject of our main question, 315
j.e .. renew and stimulate in our consciousness the ideas and knowledge
required to answer it, or else acquaint us with the principal factors which
111 ust be considered in finding an answer. Dealing with a preliminary
question can do great service for us in these respects, even if it does not
lead us to a solution, simply because we gave it our attention for a while.
Admittedly, it is not always possible to tell whether it will be useful in
this way. It is to be expected, however, that dealing with a preliminary
question will be of benefit if it stands in one of the following relations
to the main question: if it bears on a question which is either superordi-
nate, subordinate, or coordinate to the main question; or if it requires the
more precise determination of certain concepts which occur in the sought
truth, or concerns a subject which is either very similar or else opposed
to the subject of the main question, etc. Thus, for example, if we had to
discover the theorem of the parallelogram of forces, we would do well to
ask what result two equal forces acting in either the same or else opposite
directions would have; then what must be the effect of two equal forces
acting at an arbitrary angle, or two unequal forces acting at right angles
to each other, etc. For these cases are subordinate to the general truth we
seek. If we have to specify the duties which issue from a contract, we will
do well to begin with the concept of a contract; if we have to enumerate
the benefits of the virtue of moderation, it will be appropriate to begin by
considering the harmful consequences of immoderation, etc.
§.328.*
IV Deductions from already known truths or direct method
1) It is well known that at any given time only the smallest part of our
knowledge is actually present in our mind; the rest is absent, but in such 316
a way that through the use of certain means within our power-for ex-
ample, what we call rumination-it is possible to renew it. Among the
things known to us but not immediately present there are often some that
would serve to answer a question which is before us, i.e., from which we
could deduce the sought truth if they were present. If, in addition, the
subject upon which we are to reflect is not of the kind where it is obvious
in advance that there will be nothing in our previous knowledge which
might serve to illuminate it (and this will seldom be the case), we will be
wise to begin by asking ourselves what knowledge related to this subject
211
 THE ART OF DISCOVERY§. 328.
we already possess. We must, I say, try to bring everything to mind which
we know of our subject, so that we may select therefrom the items that
might serve to facilitate our answering the question about it.
2) Now it is customary to call every truth we may presuppose as
known in our search for another a given truth or a datwn, if one thinks
it may be helpful in the search. By contrast, the truth we seek is called
the qwesitum. Thus we may express the above rule as follows: in every
problem one must attempt to bring to mind not only the qucesitum but also
all available data.
3) It is admittedly difficult in many cases to find precisely the truths
which might help us to discover the sought truth by surveying all the
truths we know. The most likely ones are those which have constituents
in common with the sought truth (provided that some of these constituents
317 are already known). Thus if the topic of the sought truth is known, it will
be worthwhile to consider any truth we know having to do with this topic.
Yet truths with completely different constituents can often be useful, es-
pecially when they have a considerable number of parts in common with
truths we have recognised to be useful on independent grounds. It is ob-
vious that among the large number of truths we recall we must direct our
attention to those which seem to us most likely to help us solve our prob-
lem. Only if we are unable to accomplish anything with these should we
take up others. The only truths we should overlook entirely are those we
can know in advance to be of no use for our purpose.
4) If we have collected certain propositions A, B, C, D, ... which we
hold to be true, and if we are not convinced in advance that they will be
useless for solving our problem, the next thing to do is actually to attempt
to use them to solve it. We do this by closely considering them both
individually and in every possible combination in order to see whether a
new proposition M can be deduced from some individual proposition or
combination of propositions, where even if M is not the sought truth, we
at least have reason to hope it will bring us closer to a solution. That is,
it will be easier to discover the truth we seek if we consult the truth M
along with A, B, C, D, ....
5) We have shown in the chapter on inferences how one should at-
tempt to deduce M from the truths A, B, C, D, .... From this chapter
we will gather which combinations of the propositions A, B, C, D, ...
are most promising, namely, those related to each other like the premises
of an argument. If, for example, we wanted to decide the question of
318 whether our soul is immortal, we would do well to begin by recalling to
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rnind all the truths known to us which have the soul as their topic, as well
as those dealing with another topic yet containing ideas occurring in the
former. A truth of the first sort would be, for instance, that our soul is
a simple substance, while a truth of the second sort would be that every
simple substance is imperishable. When we combine these two truths
with each other we immediately notice that the new truth that the soul
is imperishable follows from them-a proposition which does not indeed
answer the question of immortality, yet does bring us closer to a solution.
6) Since in the method just described we pass from a consideration of
already known truths to the recognition of a new one, and from the latter
to yet another one, etc., it has been called the progressive method. And
since the new truth is usually deduced from the combination of several
previously known truths, it is also called the combinat01y or synthetic
method. In comparison to the methods we shall consider in the following
sections, it can also be called the natural or direct method.
§.329.*
V. Tentative acceptance or indirect method
1) If we have pursued the method just described for a long time with-
out reaching our goal, i.e., without having found the truth we seek, it is
advisable to take a different route, one which is sometimes worth taking
even before trying our luck with the direct method. The method I have
in mind is that in which we randomly form propositions with the form of
the sought truth, though we do not know in the moment we form them 319
whether or not they are true, something which we can only find out by
reflecting on them. Such reflection, which aims at discovering whether
or not a given proposition is true, may be called an inquily or, more pre-
cisely, an examination of the proposition M (cf. §306). If this inquiry
shows that M is false, then the problem we had set ourselves is admittedly
not solved. But if it shows that it is true, then in the randomly selected
M we have the very truth we sought. Propositions which we form with
this intention, namely, in order to determine through further reflection
whether or not they are true, may quite appropriately be called tentative
assumptions or hypotheses, and the procedure of looking for the truth we
seek by this means may be called the method of tentative assumptions.
If we compare this procedure with the one described in the previous sec-
tion, it is apparent that even if it sometimes brings us quickly to our goal,
it can still be called artificial, backwards or indirect, since it attempts to
213
 THE ART OF DISCOVERY§. 329.
find truth by means of something that is not yet recognised as truth, while
the most natural thing is to derive truths from truths. A considerable
number of truths in all sciences will indeed only be discovered through
this procedure, i.e., by at first merely representing the propositions which
express these truths, and then becoming convinced of their truth by ex-
amining them. Someone who cannot use this procedure, someone who
does not even want to form ideas of propositions saying one thing or an-
other about the matter at hand before he can pronounce a well-grounded
judgement on it, cuts himself off from the opportunity to investigate this
proposition and hence from the knowledge of many a truth. In fact, the
complaint one often hears from people who are by no means dim-witted
320 that for all their reflection they are not able to get anywhere seems to stem
entirely from a stubborn refusal to use this procedure. They don't want to
form an idea of a proposition until they know they may accept it as true,
so they cannot even examine it, and hence discover nothing.
2) Now two things are required when this method is employed, namely:
(a) the propositions in question must be suitably chosen, and (b) they must
be tested in every feasible way.
3) Pure reflection knows no other means for producing a suitable stock
of propositions than to make use of the combinations of ideas already
present in our soul. For no idea is utterly isolated in the soul; rather, each
is connected with others, and the latter in turn with others still. Thus
merely considering the matter we wish to reflect on cannot fail to intro-
duce many other ideas, and reflecting on the latter will develop an ever
greater number of ideas in us. If, as often occurs, we then combine these
ideas into entire propositions, we can produce in short order a consider-
able number of propositions which have the form of the truth we seek.
Here it is obvious that those which we can see at first glance to be false
may be discarded without examination. When we turn to actual reflec-
tion, however, we often become aware that the large and perhaps infinite
multitude of propositions that have the form of the truth we seek may
be reduced to a moderate number which need to be examined; and even
among the latter some usually show themselves to be far more probable
than the rest. If, for example, we had to solve an equation with integral
321 coefficients, and we knew that the roots were rational, we simply need to
recall that these roots must all be whole numbers and also factors of the
last term, in order to reduce the number of values for tentative investi-
gation to a quite reasonable size. If among equally probable assumptions
some are easier to investigate than others, it is obviously advisable to deal
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with the former before the latter. Sometimes the mere consideration of the
attributes of one or several assumptions we have already discovered to be
false makes it possible to recognise other attributes which the sought truth
must possess, and thus either to determine the latter completely, or else to
make it easier to do so. Examples are the well-known reguli falsi of the
masters of calculation, as well as the diverse methods of approximation
used in astronomy and elsewhere.
4) The first thing we can do with regard to the examination of ten-
tative assumptions is to think of the proposition under examination as
distinctly as possible. To this end, we should also present it in words or
other kinds of signs and, if called for, even to express it in different (mutu-
ally equivalent) ways. Such efforts sometimes make the truth or falsity of
the proposition obvious to us, without recourse to any other means. They
may also remind us that we had previously judged its truth or falsity and,
depending on the circumstances, this previous judgement may still seem
reliable enough. What we have to guard against is holding a proposi-
tion to be true simply because it presents itself to us quite unbidden, or
comes to mind with great vividness. For these phenomena provide at best
a very weak presumption of the truth of the proposition. They can never
be looked upon as a sufficient indicator of its truth, since they can merely
be the effect of quite accidental connections produced by the well-known 322
laws of the association of ideas.
5) If the mere distinct representation of a proposition M does not lead
to a judgement about it, or if this judgement does not appear reliable
enough, the next stage in its testing is that we attempt to deduce, either
from M alone, or from M together with other already known premises,
several consequences and from these further consequences, etc. If we
recognise any one of these consequences as a false proposition, then
we are entitled to the conclusion that our tentative hypothesis M is it-
self false. Conversely, if all consequences drawn from the proposition
M are true, we ought to do the same thing we just did with M now also
with its negation, the proposition Neg.M, i.e., we should collect all conse-
quences which follow from Neg.M either immediately or in conjunction
with known truths. If we can find one which is decidedly false, then it is
shown that N eg.M is false and hence that the initial hypothesis M itself
is true. This procedure of showing the truth of proposition M, and thus
of solving the indicated problem, is generally called reduction to absur-
dity, or the apagogic method. Examples are common in the mathematical
sciences so that I need not mention any at this time.
215
 THE ART OF DISCOVERY §. 329.
6) If neither the assumption of M nor that of Neg.M leads to an ab-
surdity then almost nothing can be decided in this way. At most, in cases
where the falsity of one of these propositions could be expected to lead
more readily to absurdity than that of the other given the context, we
323 might claim it to be probable-but only if the probability the other propo-
sition has in other respects is not greater.
7) Another means of coming to a decision about the proposition M,
which is to be highly recommended if M already has a considerable prob-
ability, is the following procedure. We select from the multitude of all
propositions from which, if they were true, M would be derivable those,
I, K, L, ... , which seem most probable to us. We then introduce them as
new assumptions, and attempt to prove their truth using all the means at
our disposal. If we do not succeed, but instead prove that some of them
are false, we discard these and try others. If we fail to prove either the
truth or the falsity of I, K, L, ... , we look for several new assumptions
D, E, F, ... , from which, if they were true, I, K, L, ... and thence M could
be deduced; as before, we select from the propositions D, E, F, ... those
which seem most probable. We then do with them what was just pre-
scribed for I,K,L, ... or M, and continue in this way until we finally suc-
ceed in discovering assumptions A,B,C, ... which can be proved without
drawing on others. If this occurs, it is clear that we have shown the truth
of M, and thus solved our problem. Suppose, for example, we wanted
to decide in this way whether or not a perpetuum mobile was possible.
Since all previous attempts to show that one is possible have failed, we
assume to begin with that none is possible. Then, considering several
propositions from which this would follow, we hit upon the proposition
that no single substance in nature continually remains at the same level of
existence. If this could be proved, then so would the former. But as this
proposition only seems probable to us, we reflect about whether we are
able to prove it. It is clear to us that we could prove it if we were permit-
324 ted to assume that every (finite) substance has powers of representation.
Given that this is also probable, we assume it, and look for a proof. It
appears that this would be proved if we assumed every finite substance
which acts externally also experiences reaction internally. And as this
last proposition is clear in and of itself after a little reflection, we may
consider the problem we had set ourself solved. If we look at the path we
took in this procedure in order to arrive at the recognition of the truth of
M, it is clear that we represent first M, then I, K, L, ... , then D, E, F, ... ,
and finally A,B,C, ... only tentatively; we finally saw the truth of M be-
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cause we had previously noted that M is deducible from the propositions
J,K,L, ... , which are deducible from D,E,F, ... which are deducible
from A,B,C, ... , and had learned that A,B,C, . .. were true. Our con-
viction in M is thus a consequence which is grounded in our conviction
that the propositions/, K, L, ... , which were formed later, are true; while
our conviction in the latter results from our conviction with respect to
D, E, F, ... , which were considered after them. Thus one may say that
the consequences are considered before their grounds, or that one pro-
ceeds from the former to the latter. Given that the most natural movement
of thought is in the opposite direction, one may call the present procedure
regressive. If in addition, which is often if not always the case, the propo-
sitions I,K,L, ... are simpler than the proposition M, and D,E,F, .. .
simpler than I, K, L, ... , etc., one may also say that this procedure is
a resolving or analytic one. The requirement that the assumption to be
examined, M, already have a considerable degree of probability, as well
as the requirement that one always select the most probable among the
new assumptions I,K,L, ... from which M can be deduced, and similarly 325
for D, E, F, ... , were only stipulated so that in the end we should arrive
all the more surely at assumptions A, B, C, ... which reveal themselves to
be true. The procedure would also be correct if we did not observe these
restrictions. And if we do not shrink from the danger of a futile search, or
if among the many assumptions which we might have used in such a pro-
cedure none is more probable than the others, we may follow whatever
order we like in our inquiry.
8) Another quite useful means of testing a proposition M suggests
itself in the special case where the subject-idea is a general concept A and
we are able to survey either all or many of the objects standing under it
in order to figure out whether the attribute b, which the proposition to
be tested ascribes to all A, in fact belongs to all of them. If, in a case
like this, we find even one A which lacks attribute b (which is often quite
easy to do), then the falsity of M is decided. Many philosophers, for
example, accept the proposition that if the relation between two things
along with one of the things is completely determined, then so is the other.
This can be shown to be false in the way just described, by applying
it to the case where both things are spatial objects, e.g., a point and a
line. But in order to recognise the truth of M in this way, and this with
certainty, then we can obviously not restrict our investigation simply to a
great number of the objects standing under A, but we must extend it to all
of them. Now if A comprises many, perhaps even infinitely many, objects,
217
 THE ART OF DISCOVERY§. 329.
then this becomes possible only by finding certain concepts A' ,A", ... ,
which stand under the concept A in such a way that their domains together
exhaust the domain of A; moreover, they must be such that the truth of
the propositions "Every A' has b", "Every A" has b", ... can be more
326 easily established than the universal proposition "Every A in general has
b". This procedure is also well-known from the mathematical sciences. It
is clearly not necessary for the ideas A' ,A", ... to be exclusive, but only
that they together exhaust the domain of A (§95). If we cannot establish
a sufficiently large number of propositions of the form "A' has b", "A"
has b", ... to conclude decisively that all A in general have b, since the
ideas A',A", ... taken together do not completely exhaust the domain
of A, then the propositions already established still entitle us to conclude
with a certain degree of probability that the attribute b, which belongs
to all the A already investigated, also belongs to the remaining ones and
hence to all A. In particular, assume that the number of all A is m + n,
and the number of those already investigated and found to have attribute
b is m; also assume that besides our observation we have no other reason
whatever to suppose that property b should belong only to the A which
we have investigated rather than to the others; assume furthermore that
concept A itself does not furnish any reason why it is more likely than
not that the attribute b should belong to the objects falling under A; and,
lastly, assume that we have no reasons other than those produced by our
observations to suppose that the A should be all alike with respect to an
attribute of the kind of b: if all these conditions are fulfilled, then the
degree of probability with which we can assume that the remaining A,
and hence all A, have attribute bis = 11 ;~~! 1 . (The calculations leading to
this expression can be found in the literature.) Since 11;~~! 1 either equals
or is smaller than one-half, whenever m < n, and since we cannot accept
propositions whose probability is smaller than one-half, it follows that the
327 truth of a proposition M cannot be assumed unless we have tested at least
half of all A and have found them to have property b. It is, of course, a
different matter if we have independent reasons that make the existence
of the attribute b in all A more or less probable, or if we have reason to
surmise that these objects are all equal with respect to their possessing
b. In such cases, when we have indubitably perceived the existence of b
only in a few A, we may infer that all of the A have b with a higher degree
of probability than is indicated by the previous rule. For example, when
we have a formula we have derived through calculation, a few tests may
suffice to convince us that it is correct-not on account of the number of
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tests, which is perhaps vanishingly small in comparison with the number
of cases for which the formula is supposed to be valid, but rather because
it is improbable that if we had committed errors of calculation in deriving
the formula, these would be precisely of the sort which produced c01Tect
results in the cases we tested. So too, if we go into a small section of a
large library and take a few books from the top shelf, and a few books
from the bottom shelf, and we find them to be theology books, we can
conclude that all the books in this section are on theology, since it is
reasonable to suppose that the books in the library are ordered according
to subject. As the kind of inference by means of which we recognise
the truth of M in such cases is usually called a (complete or incomplete)
induction (§§236, 253), we may call this way of solving a problem an
inductive procedure.
9) In the procedure just described we undertook a kind of division
with respect to the subject of the proposition. One may also sometimes be
equally successful by attempting a division with respect to the predicate,
namely, in the case where the attribute b which the proposition ascribes 328
is a collection of several attributes b, b', b", .... Here it must be decided
whether or not the attribute b belongs to all A; to do this, it suffices to
decide whether or not the individual attributes b, b', b", ... belong to all
A, something which is clearly often easier to accomplish. I need only call
upon examples from mathematics which everyone knows. Even in the
case where we are unable to prove the existence of all of b', b", ... which
together make up b, it will sometimes be permissible to infer the existence
of all of them from the presence of some of them with a greater or lesser
degree of probability. For if the number of attributes b', b", ... is = m + n,
and the number of those we have perceived to exist= m; and if apart from
the reasons provided by these observations we have no reason to accept
rather than reject any of the attributes b', b", ... ; when, furthermore, we
have no reason to expect that the existence of one of these will make the
existence or absence of another more likely; if all these conditions are
met, then the degree of probability with which we may assume that all of
the b'.. b", ... are found together is (exactly as in no. 8) = m+n+m+ 1 . This
1
procedure may most appropriately be called one of analogy (cf. §253).
Note. It is usually said that in all reflection aimed at the discov-
ery of new truths there are only two ways of proceeding, respectively
called the progressive and the regressive method. Although there is lit-
tle unity in the definitions of these concepts, the most common describe
the former as a progression from grounds to the grounded, and the latter
219
 THE ART OF DISCOVERY§. 330.
as a progression from the grounded to the grounds. The first definition
329 seems clear enough, supposing that it has been noted somewhere that
the words "ground" and "grounded" (or consequence) are taken in their
widest sense, according to which any proposition which is deducible from
another may be said to be grounded in it (or is its consequence). Thus I
also maintained this definition of the progressive method. With respect
to the definition of the regressive method, however, it seemed necessary
to indicate more precisely how one might proceed from the grounded to
its grounds. It doesn't seem correct to me to call the progressive method
synthetic and the regressive analytic in every case. When, for instance,
one seeks the highest moral law in the way described in §327, no. 3, one
proceeds progressively, since one proceeds from known truths to other
known truths; yet the truth one finally arrives at is simpler than those
form which one started. Thus one cannot say that one has synthesised;
one should instead say that he has resolved. A historian, by contrast,
who in order to determine the true course of an event tentatively as-
sumes that it occurred in such and such a way and then, in order to justify
these suppositions, assumes certain other events, etc., certainly proceeds
regressively-but can one say that he proceeds analytically when the later
assumptions are always more complex than their predecessors? Yet not
much is riding on terminology, especially given that a different justifica-
tion of these terms can be devised. But when some (e.g., TWESTEN, L.,
§ 175) say that the regressive procedure cannot be used for the discovery
of truths, but only in order to find a proof for an already known truth, they
are correct up to a point, insofar as this procedure is especially suitable
for discovering such proofs. But to say that it can only be used for this
and cannot be applied in cases where one merely surmises the truth, or
does not recognise it at all, is going too far. At one point, for instance,
people did not know which law governed the refraction of light. Yet they
tentatively assumed various laws and thereby found that the sines of the
330 angles of incidence and refraction stand in a constant ratio.
§.330.
VI. Combination of several methods
No matter how many means we already know for the discovery of truth,
we learn all too well how defective they are when we come to apply them.
The direct method indeed always leads us to truths, but not always to new
or noteworthy ones, or at least not to the truths we wish to discover. Ad-
mittedly, we need not combine premises haphazardly when using this
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method, but rather may choose them with constant attention to the form
of the truth we seek, which is supposed to play the role of conclusion;
and when we do this we may certainly expect that the truths we produce
will bring us closer to the one we want to discover. Yet it remains un-
certain whether we will actually reach it, even in cases where it is really
deducible from the chosen premises, since there are so many ways these
premises may be combined without leading to the desired goal. The in-
direct methods all have the flaw that we must randomly assume how the
truth we seek runs; and if this form is quite indeterminate, if luck does not
favour us, we tire of the many unsuccessful assumptions before finding
something noteworthy. Each of the indirect methods also has its own spe-
cial problems as well. With the apagogic method we may proceed from
a false assumption (M or Neg.M), and deduce a considerable number
of consequences from it, without hitting upon any noticeable absurdity.
With the regressive method, we may pile assumption upon assumption,
only finding out after a long inquiry that they are all false or indemon-
strable. The inductive method, finally, only furnishes certainty when the
induction is complete, but inductions are usually difficult and tiring, and 331
often incomplete. Thus we must all wish that adepts of Heuristic would
discover other, more perfect methods. But before looking for these, we
should first see if it would help to use the already known methods not
individually but-to the extent that this is possible-in combination. No
instruction seems to be required for how to combine the indirect methods,
since this can only happen by applying one after the other, using one and
the same assumption-and here it goes without saying that one should
begin with the most promising assumption. But a few useful things may
be said about how to combine these indirect methods with the direct.
1) In order to combine the direct and the apagogic methods in the
most advantageous way, we must aim the former at propositions that
stand in the relation of incompatibility with the consequences derived
from the hypothetical assumption Mor Neg.M, and the latter at proposi-
tions which stand in the relation of incompatibility with the propositions
obtained by the former method. If we have discovered a consequence Z
that follows from M which conflicts with a truth E discovered by the di-
rect method, then the falsity of M is proven; and if we have discovered a
consequence of Neg .M that conflicts with a consequence of E, then the
truth of M is proven. But propositions usually only stand in relations of
incompatibility if they have several constituents in common. Thus in or-
der to get propositions like Z and E we must, in looking for a suitable Z
221
 THE ART OF DISCOVERY§. 330.
(i.e., consequences of M or N eg.M), pay attention to the constituents of
which the truths D,E, ... are composed and, when deriving D,E, ... ,
pay attention to the constituents of Z, and strive to obtain propositions
with common constituents. We will succeed all the better at this if we oc-
332 cupy ourselves in turns with the derivation of Zand the derivation of E.
Many examples of this procedure will come to mind for mathematicians.
In order to give an example from another science, let us suppose that we
had to prove the existence of God, i.e., the existence of a being that has no
ground of its existence. Following the apagogic method, we assume the
opposite, i.e., that there is no being which does not have the ground of its
existence in another being, and attempt to derive some absurdity or other.
Since no noteworthy consequence which follows from this proposition
alone occurs to us, we look for a known truth which, combined with it,
would yield consequences. The truth to us that there are beings comes
to mind. From the combination of this proposition and our assumption
it follows that there are also beings (at least one) that have the power to
create, i.e., the power to be the (at least partial) cause of the existence of
another being, and also that these beings must also be created. Now, in
order to reveal the contradiction which this claim contains in itself, we
seek truths concerning the nature of created or creating beings by the di-
rect method. With respect to the former, it is obvious that the nature of a
created being must lie (at least partly) in another being, since the ground
of its existence lies in another being. Thus a created being must be acted
upon by the other being and hence be changeable, becoming gradually
more perfect, while having been less perfect earlier. Accordingly, there is
no degree of force which is so small that this being was not at a lower de-
gree at some point. If we now consider the nature of a creating being, we
find that the act of creation does not occur in time, and hence presupposes
a power which does not attain a certain magnitude in time, but rather has
it from all eternity. Thus it now appears that the claim that a created be-
333 ing could also create leads to a contradiction; namely, that there can be no
power, however small, in a created being which has persisted for all eter-
nity, yet a creating being must have exercised some power which it has
had for all eternity. Thus we recognise that there must be an uncreated
being.
2) In order to combine the direct method with the regressive method
to good effect, we must look upon the assumptions to which the latter
gives rise as so many targets we must strive to reach by the inferences
of the direct method. If, for example, we have the problem of investi-
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gating indeterminism, i.e., the proposition that the human will sometimes
makes resolutions without any determining ground, and we assume this
proposition provisionally in order to try the regressive method, we find
ourselves moving on to the further provisional assumption that our will
forms resolutions without any determining ground, at least in cases where
reason demands a certain course of action and our faculty of desire wishes
another. In order to establish this, we make the further assumption that
it would be incorrect to claim that we only do and can follow the dic-
tates of reason when they are stronger than our wishes, and that we must
follow our wishes whenever they are stronger than the dictates of reason.
This assumption now becomes a target we must strive to attain though the
direct method. We would, e.g., proceed from the truth that only homo-
geneous things may be compared with respect to magnitude (e.g., spaces
with spaces, but not spaces with times or masses), and see whether the
assumption we just made can be proven from this.
3) If, finally, we think to combine the direct method with the method
of induction, it is obvious that in looking for the different ideas A' ,A", ...
standing under the idea A, we must seek those for which we may hope to 334
prove either the truth or falsity of the propositions "A' has b", "A" has b",
etc., by the direct method. If, for example, we were supposed to prove the
well-known theorem that the measure of an angle inscribed in a circle is
half of that of the arc it cuts off, we would take up the three cases usually
distinguished in this case, since we can expect in advance that it will be
easier to prove these cases separately.
§.331.*
VII. Consultation of others' judgements and of experience
Although the accumulation of new experiences is foreign to the kind of
reflection for which I have undertaken to give instruction, namely, pure
reflection (§323), permit me nevertheless to mention a few things on this
topic, at least for the reason that reflection is often required to decide
whether this means is appropriate.
1) We have recourse to experience, strictly speaking, even when we
listen to the views of others on a topic, and indeed even when we seek to
recall our own, previously formed judgements on the subject, for instance,
when we look through papers where we noted them. Yet the way that
the consideration of such judgements (whether they be ours or those of
others) influences our reflection is so peculiar that we rightly distinguish
it from all the other ways that experience may enlarge our knowledge,
223
 THE ART OF DISCOVERY§. 331.
and only call the latter the way of experience in the narrow sense. It is
335 reasonable to see what other thinking beings, or ourselves at an earlier
time, have judged whenever one of the following cases occurs: (a) when
a truth is sought which we could not discover without employing this
means, either because it exceeds the limits of all human knowledge or else
the limits of our own knowledge, or can only be known in circumstances
that it does not lie in our power to bring about. Much information that
we can only obtain through higher revelation is of this kind, as are most
of the truths belonging to history and other empirical sciences. (b) Also,
when it is a matter of a truth which we are indeed able to discover without
recourse to this means, but not without a considerable loss of time and
the use of energies that could be more beneficially applied to other tasks.
Here belong a multitude of purely conceptual truths which others have
already discovered through reflection and which we may safely accept
on the basis of their testimony, and which are in addition so constituted
that if we were to seek to discover them again on our own, this would
involve a loss of time and energy better spent elsewhere. Who would be
so foolish, for instance, to refuse to use any logarithms except those he
had calculated himself? (c) Whenever what we have discovered about
a given subject is not so reliable that it would be impossible by seeking
the opinions of others, or one's own earlier views, either to correct it or
usefully elevate the degree of its certainty.
2) If this inquiry into the judgements of others is to provide the ex-
pected benefits, we must know how to determine whether and to what
degree these judgements are credible. Here we should set ourselves the
law never to assume that someone is wrong unless we know how to ex-
336 plain (or at least have tried to explain) how the error might have arisen,
or unless we have found that it would be far more improbable to say that
it is not he who is in error but those opposed to him. For more on this see
§388-390.
3) Concerning the time at which we seek to learn of the judgements of
others, we shall do well in most cases not to call to mind our own earlier
judgements, nor to consult the views of others right from the start, but
rather to attempt to solve the problem with the concepts currently at our
disposal. In this way we shall judge the matter all the more impartially,
and be all the more likely to avoid errors that we ourselves or others have
made earlier. Only where there is no fear that the authority of others or
our own earlier opinions will lead us to consider the matter one-sidedly,
and where we would be in clanger of error if we were to launch into a
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complicated inquiry with no guide whatsoever, may it be better to begin
by consulting previous judgements.
4) Whenever the subject of our reflection belongs to the kind of things
that can be judged using nothing but reason and experiences which all
people can have, all men are in a position to form a valid judgement on
the matter. We will thus do well to ask how the general opinion runs in
such cases. If we discover that all, or almost all people have judged the
matter in the same way, and when on top of this it appears that the judge-
ment that almost everyone acknowledges with one voice is not one that
flatters our human inclinations, but rather places limits on them then, I
say, we may assume with a high degree of confidence that this judgement
(which I shall call a pronouncement of common sense) must accord with
truth. For because this judgement does not flatter human inclinations, the 337
general consent cannot be explained in the way so many erroneous opin-
ions that arise and spread can be, namely, because reason is com1ptecl by
our sensible nature, or because thousands have repeated without exami-
nation what one has claimed without proper consideration. Instead, we
must recognise that only the power of truth and the power of a quite ob-
vious truth must have compelled everyone to avow something they would
rather not have. - But even in inquiries which do not immediately con-
cern matters already decided by the judgements of common sense, such
pronouncements may sometimes be used to good purpose, namely, if we
are able to reduce our problem to one that can be decided in that way.
This is the case in almost all religious inquiries, for even if the questions
that arise here are not answered by the pronouncements of common sense,
more reflection almost always reveals such a pronouncement from which
the sought answer follows by a brief and evident series of inferences.
5) We now turn to the consultation of experience in the naITower
sense. It goes without saying that we cannot hope to find instruction in
this way on every question; and even where the nature of a question allows
it to be resolved through perception, everything depends upon the char-
acter of the latter. There may be perceptions which allow our question
to be easily and decisively answered with the most satisfactory certainty,
and others from which we can only infer something once we have aclclecl a
number of intermediate propositions, and even then only with probability.
Thus if it is in our power to choose among diverse perceptions, we shall
be worthy of censure if we take the circuitous path in seeking something
which could have been reached more directly. It is well known that it is 338
not always up to us whether certain perceptions which promise to pro-
225
 THE ART OF DISCOVERY§. 33 l.
vide information are made now or at some other time. Rather, we must
make use of opportunities as they present themselves. If circumstances
are such that certain perceptions may be made whenever we please, then
it will almost always be appropriate to postpone making them until we
inquire into what can be extracted from the perceptions we have already
made. This may have the useful result of teaching us towards which cir-
cumstances we must direct our attention if the new truths thus acquired
are to yield a good deal of information. Now in different cases, differ-
ent methods are required to perform the desired perceptions. Sometimes
it suffices to pay heed to the intuitions stimulated in us from outside, in
which case we are peaceful observers. Sometimes we must go to a par-
ticular place or await a specific time. Sometimes we must make a number
of preparations in advance, e.g., strengthening the powers of our senses
with machines. Sometimes, finally, it is necessary to produce through
our own activity the object or change in the external world that promises
information for our question. Undertakings of this kind are called experi-
ments. Depending upon whether the goal of performing such experiments
is to confirm a truth already known on other grounds, to decide whether a
given proposition is true or false, or to lead us to some hitherto unknown
truths, they are called confirmatory, exploratory or random.
Note 1. What was said in no. 4 concerning the so-called pronounce-
ments of common sense may itself be looked upon as a pronouncement
339 of common sense; it is frequently acknowledged even by the greatest
philosophers, i.e., precisely those who feel the greatest temptation to deny
it. Already HERACLITUS was compelled to admit the kind of infallibility
of the pronouncements not of individuals but of human reason in general.
And it is well known how much this has been emphasised in recent times,
especially by many English and after them French philosophers. It is true
that there are and have been many scholars who declared the appeal to
common understanding to be a mistake. But closer consideration reveals
that it was almost always the case that they only inveighed against ap-
peals to common sense in cases where it does not in fact have the claimed
infallibility-cases where quite special observations or experiments are
required, which the great majority of people never have and never could
have made; or on questions where the decision has no impact on other
matters, or when it does have an impact, but one which appeals to human
passions. In such cases one may not trust the judgement of the crowd,
even if it is unanimous. Thus it might be believed all around the world
that giants once existed; that day and night are caused by the movement of
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the sun around the earth; that created beings must have a beginning; that
everything on earth is there for our sake alone, etc.: yet these opinions
can all be incorrect, since none of them meet all the conditions enumer-
ated above. If, on the contrary, we find that all peoples at all times have
held charity, fidelity in fulfilling promises, and the like to be praiseworthy
and dutiful, while adultery, immoderate use of food and drink, ungrateful-
ness, etc., have been considered shameful and impermissible, we rightly
say that these are pronouncements of common sense that impart certainty
beyond a doubt to the truths they concern.
Note 2. Observation and experiment are a pair of ambiguous words.
In its widest sense, observation just means to direct one's attention to a 340
determinate object. And taken in this sense, the object of observation
need not be sensible, for all kinds of objects of which we have ideas may
be observed in this sense, e.g., God. In the sense of no. 5, however, the
object one observes is always sensible, and observation is understood not
as simply directing one's attention but also, if necessary, directing one's
sense organs towards it, and in general means the totality of actions which
are necessary to have informative perceptions. Experiment 1 in the widest
sense means to do something because we do not know for certain, but
only expect that a given result we desire will probably be produced. In
this sense we already conduct experiments when we direct our attention
to certain truths in the expectation that a new truth may be deduced from
them. But in the sense of no. 5 the result one aims at must be a perception
which will provide us with useful information, and the action we perform
in order to attain this result must consist in certain impacts on our envi-
ronment which we create in order to bring about the change we wish to
observe. This is the way I believe we understand these words in the em-
pirical sciences. Observation is looked upon as the generally applicable
means for expanding our knowledge; experiments, however, are seen as
a means that can only sometimes be applied, and always in combination
with observation. Many seem to have overlooked this last circumstance,
claiming that when experiments are performed, there is no observation.
§.332.*
Vlll. Examination of one's own previously formed judgements
In any reflection aimed at the discovery of new truths we must form judge-
ments if our purpose is to be fulfilled. For that we have discovered the
Versuch; this may also have the sense of "attempt" (ed.).
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 THE ART OF DISCOVERY§. 332.
341 sought truth, and that it runs thus and so, is already a judgement. But
in order to arrive at this judgement, we must in most cases first form a
number of other judgements, which serve as premises of the former. But
if we wish, we may pose the question of whether we have erred with re-
spect to any judgement we have formed with clear awareness. What one
undertakes in order to answer such questions may be called an examina-
tion of one's own judgement in light of the similarity between it and the
procedure described in §329 for the examination of a given proposition in
general. It is easy to see that such an examination of our own judgements,
if properly concluctecl, may be quite useful. For in this way we often come
to see the incorrectness of a judgement we have formed, and are moved
to revoke it; in other cases, when the examination confirms the judge-
ment anew, we will adhere to it with a higher degree of confidence. Not
to mention that such examinations provide exercise in thinking, and may
just happen to lead to many new truths which we had not formerly no-
ticed, and so on. Doubtless, then, we can recommend that the judgements
we form in reflection aimed at the discovery of new truths be assiduously
examined. For this reason it is appropriate to give brief instruction on this
business.
If someone, confronted with the question of whether a judgement he
formed previously is correct, answers in the affirmative without further
reflection simply because he is aware that he just formed it, then a pro-
cedure of this kind would not be of the slightest use to him. If it is to
be possible for us to become aware of errors we may have committee!,
or if in the case of a correct judgement our confidence is to be increased
342 with good reason, then the answer we give to the question "Is this judge-
ment true?" must be grounded in a separate consideration. Now since
there must be a ground that determined us to form the judgement we are
to examine, provided that it was not immediate, it will be appropriate to
become distinctly aware of this ground if we are not so already. Thus
we must ask ourselves whether we formed the judgement immediately
or, if we deduced it from others, which others? If it turns out that it was
formed immediately, then we may suppose that it is a true judgement with
the same degree of confidence that we form the former judgement, since
no error may enter into immediate judgements (§309). But if we find that
the judgement was deduced from others, and are distinctly aware of these
other judgements, then we will also be able to judge the degree of relia-
bility of these earlier judgements and whether the sort of inference used
to derive the former from the latter is a perfect one or only probable.
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General Rules
2) If it appears in this way that the judgement under examination
does not have a sufficient degree of reliability, it will be necessary to
Jook around for other grounds for or against it; in the opposite case, this
will still be both permissible and appropriate. Here it is obvious that
we may have a greater expectation of discovering the truth if we impar-
tially consider every reason that speaks infavour as well as all those that
speak against the judgement. If we direct our attention only to that which
speaks in.favour of our judgement while disregarding any reasons against
it, then we will never be able to recognise its incorrectness if it is false,
and simply reinforce our error. If, on the contrary, we attend only to that
which seems to conflict with our judgement, then it is to be feared that 343
we will gradually be led to abandon it, even if it is true.
3) Let us now ask how long this business of seeking grounds for and
against should continue. Since for every judgement there is an infinite
number of more or less probable assumptions from which it may be de-
duced with more or less probability, it might well happen that continued
reflection, especially when combined with other means, will from time to
time reveal new, previously unconsidered and at least somewhat probable
propositions that speakjor, and others that speak against the proposition
under examination. It would obviously be asking too much if someone
were to demand that we continue our search for such grounds as long
as we may still hope to discover them. Yet I know of no other rule that
is both general and instructive which would govern the time and effort
that should be devoted to this task. It seems easy, however, to point to
many cases where we may justifiably break off our examination. Such a
case occurs when we already possess so many grounds speaking either in
favour or against the judgement under examination, and these have been
mustered in such a way that the affirmation or denial of the judgement
has attained such a degree of probability that we can see that further con-
tinuation of our inquiry would never make the opposite more probable,
provided that no events outside of our control occur. In order to illus-
trate this, consider the following example. Suppose that we have just
calculated that the ratio of the diameter of a circle to its circumference
is l : 3.141 .... We then learn from a variety of books that others have
sought this ratio in the most diverse ways, and attained the same result, 344
but that the few who have sought it and claimed to find a different an-
swer do not agree with each other. Moreover, the former all claim to be
able to indicate the place where the latter have erred, and even some of
the latter have come to agree with them. In this case, I claim, we may
229
 THE ART OF DISCOVERY §. 332.
justifiably break off our examination without first having learned of the
grounds that the opponents have put forth in support of their differing
answer. For we may know in advance that at best (i.e., if we cannot see
their incorrectness) these grounds would not have as high a degree of
probability as those which we have already mustered for the correctness
of our calculation. We could not reject this unless events completely out
of our control were to occur, namely, until people tell us with the same
or nearly the same degree of unanimity that the previous calculation was
false, and explain at the same time how it could have come about that so
many made the same mistake. In the case I just discussed we may break
off our inquiry, since it is no longer necessary for the immediate goal of
our examination, i.e., to become more certain of the truth or falsity of the
judgement in question. But it does not follow from this that we may not
continue for some other reason, e.g., for the sake of exercise in thinking
or the discovery of other truths. Thus we might still find it worthwhile
to acquaint ourselves with a few of the unsuccessful attempts to square
the circle, so that it may become more obvious to us how far one may err
even in a science which boasts the highest degree of evidence once one
makes room for some passion or other (e.g., the desire to say something
novel). Clearly, there will also be a great many cases where further in-
345 quiry is forbidden for other reasons, e.g., because we are already too tired
to succeed if we continue, or if it intem1pts our leisure, etc.
4) We must now ask which judgements should be subjected to this
sort of examination. It is obviously impossible to examine eve1y one of
our judgements. For since a resolution to examine a judgement already
presupposes a judgement, since in every examination we must declare
the judgement under consideration to be either reliable or unreliable, and
finally since this declaration must itself be preceded by many other judge-
ments, it is obvious that someone who wanted to examine every one of his
judgements would never come to an end, since every examination would
force him to undertake further examinations. It would also be asking too
much to require that we examine all the judgements used as premises in
order to arrive at the judgement which we consider to be the genuine an-
swer to the question before us. For here too the number of judgements to
be examined would grow to infinity, since the propositions upon which we
ground a judgement while examining it also appear as a kind of premise
of this judgement and hence of the judgement we intend to deduce from
them as well. Since we cannot examine everything, then, it all comes
down to whether the choice we make is appropriate. Thus we must seek
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a rule which would specify which propositions merit examination more
than others.
5) Should we choose based on the degree of confidence, that is, should
we only examine the premises which we hold with a considerably lower
degree of confidence? It might not be completely wrong to proceed in
this way, but I cannot agree that it would be completely suitable. For it is 346
well known that confidence may be deceiving, as erroneous judgements
may possess, if not our complete confidence, at least a very high degree
of it. And if we were to exempt from examination every judgement we
form with a high degree of confidence, how could we ever become aware
of such mistakes?
6) Should we say that our examination should cover all the premises
which could not by their very nature be mistaken? But if we did this,
we would have to examine all judgements which are not immediate, i.e.,
those which are deduced from others. If so, we would always have to con-
tinue right up to the immediate judgements. How difficult this is! How
seldom (perhaps never) are we likely to succeed! We would always be
starting over again, never able to look upon something we had already
examined as decided, and hence never able to assume it without further
examination-how would we ever get anywhere? Indeed, carefully con-
sidered, it is clear that we would thus get lost in an infinite process. For
the truth that a certain judgement was formed immediately cannot itself
be recognised immediately. Hence if we wanted to examine every medi-
ate judgement, the judgements whereby we declare other judgements to
be immediate would themselves be subject to examination which, as it is
easy to see, would continue ad infinitum.
7) From what has been said thus far concerning the way the process
of examination should be conducted, it is clear that it is only possible to
examine a given proposition that is based upon one or more other propo-
sitions taken to be true. If we suppose that the one or several propo-
sitions that must be assumed to be true in order to examine another M
have a lower degree of reliability than M itself, then it is obvious that al-
though it might be corroborated through this examination, it could never
be overturned. For since the degree of reliability of a judgement is never
considerably greater than that of the premises from which it is deduced, 347
but usually smaller (because of the possibility of an error in the deriva-
tion), the degree of probability that the proposition N eg.M would acquire
should the examination speak against M would still remain smaller than
that possessed by M, because the assumptions from which Neg .M follows
231
 THE ART OF DISCOVERY §. 332.
have a lower degree of probability than M. Thus even in this case we may
not switch to Neg .M, but must remain with the already pronounced judge-
ment M. From this it follows, however, that we may confidently refrain
from examining a proposition M in all cases where we can only do so by
assuming propositions with a lower degree of reliability than M itself. For
although one cannot say that such an examination would be totally use-
less since we would have to remain with M even if the examination spoke
against it-for it might at least provide some exercise in thinking-one
may claim that it is not necessary for the present purpose, in which the
judgement M will be applied as a premise. If, on the contrary, we intend
to apply a judgement M in our reflection and we know a way to examine
it without assuming any propositions with a lower degree of reliability,
then we will do well always to petform this examination, provided that
the prolongation of our examination does not threaten to cause more harm
than error would. If there is no such fear, the examination is reasonable,
since it may turn out that we are moved to correct the judgement M. For
example, I would not subject to examination the judgement that I am
thinking right now, or that I have an intuition of something red, merely
348 because I know of no other judgement upon which I could base my ex-
amination that would be more reliable than the former judgements. So
too I shall not examine the judgement that a calculation yields the result
I have found if this examination would take so long that the advantages
to be gained by the correct answer (e.g., from a wager) would disappear.
But if there is time enough and the subject merits it, I would undertake
the examination, and continue it as long as it takes to confer such a high
degree of certainty on the correctness of my calculation that every other
calculation to which I would have to have recourse in order to overturn it
would have a lower degree of probability.
8) Judgements that we form without being aware of it cannot for that
very reason be examined, no matter how much they might merit this by
dint of their unreliability. Thus a rule telling us how to undertake such ex-
aminations would be absurd, since it would require something impossible
ofus. But the rule I just set out (no. 7) is not subject to this objection, for it
only tells us to examine judgements when we can see that this is possible
without recourse to less reliable judgements; thus judgements we are not
even aware of are already excluded. It is indeed true that the judgement
that it will be possible for us to examine the judgement in question with-
out recourse to other less reliable judgements can in no way be formed
immediately, and hence in forming it we run the risk of falling into error.
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But there is no way to avoid this risk, and it is clearly not as great as the
risk we would be exposed to were we to determine by some other rule or
by mere chance which of our judgements should be examined. It is worth 349
noting that according to this rule one and the same judgement made by
the same man may merit examination at one time but not at another. For
the degree of reliability with which we form one and the same judgement
may be different at different times-perhaps because we may have ex-
amined it or because other circumstances have changed in the meantime.
It may also happen that at one time we know of no way to examine the
judgement without presupposing a less reliable judgement, while later a
better way occurs to us. Finally, circumstances may change: at one time
we may be pressed for time and granted leisure at another, etc.
Note. It is not surprising that the rule set out by DESCARTES to doubt
everything at least once in one's life has frequently been challenged. For
although one may gather from everything this philosopher said of his
method that he himself was anything but a sceptic, still less a fervent
one, his rule is nevertheless both incorrect and dangerous. Doubting is no
more immediately and unconditionally dependent upon our will than ac-
ceptance or rejection. Thus one cannot claim it to be a duty or an offence
to doubt unless one first indicates the means of bringing it about or pre-
venting it. Someone who wants to tell us that we must doubt everything
(at least once in our life) must first show how this can be accomplished.
Some truths are so evident that we can never bring ourselves to doubt
them, no matter what we try. Of this sort, for instance, are the truths that
we are thinking or that we have ideas, etc. But even supposing we could
doubt everything, why should we? Why should we raise doubts concern-
ing truths we know with great assurance, the certain knowledge of which
is of such great importance to us that we cannot doubt them for even the 350
shortest of times without feeling unhappy or placing our virtue in danger?
Such truths are, e.g., the existence of God, the immortality of our soul,
the binding nature of the moral law, etc. Who would counsel people in
earnest to raise doubts in themselves against these important truths? It
seems to be that DESCARTES simply failed to express himself properly
here, speaking of doubt when he actually thought of examination. The
examination of a given proposition, if this is simply an inquiry with the
aim of becoming aware of the grounds upon which we may or may not
rely upon it, is a process we may undertake without in the least doubting
its truth. The fact that we confuse examination with doubting occurs in
part because it is most necessary to examine propositions we doubt, and
233
 THE ART OF DISCOVERY§. 332.
in part because in the process of examining a proposition we presuppose
neither that it is true nor that we may infer things from it, exactly as we
would do if we did not hold the proposition to be true, but rather doubted
it. But this happens not because we do not in fact hold the proposition to
be true, but rather because we cannot become aware of the ground upon
which it rests if we already presupposed it, since this ground obviously
lies in other propositions. Indeed, we must do this whenever we intend to
prove the truth of a proposition we recognise as true to someone else who
does not; there too we may not presuppose the proposition to be proved,
but rather must proceed from other propositions. One may no more ob-
ject that we must doubt a proposition in order to examine it than one may
claim that we must doubt it in order to prove it to someone else. But the
Cartesian rule would still be defective even if we replaced the doubting it
requires with examination. For what does it mean to say that this exam-
ination must cover "everything"? By this, clearly, nothing else could be
meant but all of our judgements. But it was already shown in no. 4 that
351 this is too much to ask. We can only ever examine a few of our judge-
ments, and must leave others unexamined. Thus we need a rule to govern
our choice, and DESCARTES' rule, far from providing this, forbids such
a choice. MALEBRANCHE (De la recherche de la verite, I, l) sought to
remedy this defect and said "one must not assent to any propositions save
those which are so evidently true that one could not renounce them with-
out suffering inner pain and one's own reproaches." 1 We certainly do well
if we follow the voice of conscience when doubting or rather examining
our opinions. But this voice is sometimes mute; and when it speaks there
is one (not distinctly recognised) ground which determines the judge-
ment of our conscience, and it is this which we need to know about, at
least in general terms, i.e., one must indicate the rule our conscience fol-
lows when allowing us to examine some judgements but not others. Nor
did RUDIGER (De Sensu V. et F, IV, 1, §3) improve upon this by stating
that we should not doubt the proposition, but rather the proofs of it. Non
de re ipsa, sed de probationibus dubitemus. Nihil hinc unquam emerg-
ere incongrui potest; cum talis dubitatio sit species meditationis, nempe
analyticae. 2 It is admittedly not necessary to doubt the truth of a propo-
1Translated in the WL: The original reads: "On ne doit jamais donner de consente-
ment entier qu'aux propositions qui paroissent si evidemment vraies, qu'on ne 1misse le
leur reji1ser sans sentir une peine interieure & des reproclzes secrets de la raison."
2
We should not have doubts about the thing itself, but the proofs. Nothing incongruous
could possibly emerge from this since such doubting is a species of meditation, indeed of
the analytic sort.
234
General Rules
sition if we doubt the correctness of its proof. But are there not proofs
for some truths which are so evidently correct that doubting them would
constitute an absurdity, an incongruwn? But when R. defines this doubt-
ing as a kind of meditatio analytica, it is clear that he had in mind not
doubt, but rather examination. HOLLMAN (Log., §233-240), who dealt
with this topic more thoroughly than most logicians, also failed to remove
this difficulty. De omnibus, he wrote (§233) dubitandum aliquando est.
Du bitare vero (§234) nobis initio nihil aliud est, quam judicium suum de
veritate vel falsitate alicujus proposition is cohibere; quo ipszmz magnum
omnino inter dubitationem et negationem alicujus rei discrimen interesse,
satis statim apparet. 1 This is certainly correct. But is not the suspension 352
of judgement already a bad thing if it concerns a truth we should never
for a moment remain undecided on? He explains the de omnibus (§233
and 236) by saying that even claims recommended since the most ancient
times should not be considered settled; this is fair enough, provided that
doubting is understood to mean examining. In §238 we read that doubt
is merely a means for arriving at truth (from this it is clear that it must
really be examination). In §239 we read tamdiu dubitandum, donec de rei
vel veritate vel falsitate distincte constet. 2 But it is not always possible
to attain a distinct knowledge, i.e., knowledge coupled with recognition
of the grounds. CRUSIUS (W z. G., §538) says that "in his reflection, a
scholar is bound by law to retrace every proof up to the ultimate ground
of all knowledge, for otherwise he runs the risk of assuming unproven
propositions as proven." But would this clanger be avoided if we were
to follow this rule? What one finds in some recent treatises is no more
precise. Thus in JAKOB' s Log., §492, we read: "One must carefully run
through one's entire system of thought, all of one's judgements and opin-
ions, all one's powers of inquiry at least once, and doubt of the truth of
everything one has hitherto believed long enough to discover through rig-
orous, rational examination grounds which justify the opinions of reason.
This is the so-called Cartesian scepticism, which commands us to hold
nothing to be true without rational grounds." FRIES (Syst. d. L., p. 593)
speaks of a "genuinely philosophical postponement of judgement, which
is not doubt, but rather a preparation for critical inquiry." I only know two
actions that might be called "postponing judgement": either we do not ac-
1All things ought sometimes to be doubtful. Indeed. at the start doubting is for us
nothing other than restraining our judgement concerning the truth or falsity of any propo-
sition, because it is immediately quite obvious that there is an important distinction be-
tween doubting and negating something.
2 0ne should doubt until the truth or falsity of the thing is distinctly established.
235
 THE ART OF DISCOVERY §. 333. General Rules

tually form a judgement we were just about to, because we consider how Premises supporting it, to clarity-this in order to exa·1111·ne eac h o f' th ese
~
easily we might be mistaken, or else we do not even think about a certain P ropositions which (according to §332) merits 1·t so tl1at w
. · . · ' e may assure
353 judgement, but rather turn to other things. In the first sense, postponing ourselves that no fallacy has been comnutted in deduci'ng th e cone us10n
1 ·
judgement seems to me to be nothing other than momentary doubt of the from these premises. Thus we will do well to run throuoh th " .
. . b e same se-
truth of a proposition. In the second, admittedly, it is anything but doubt- c1uence of ideas and judgements that led to this conclus · t'
~ · . 1011 severa1 1mes
ing, but I do not see how simply setting aside a judgement, not thinking from the beginning, stopping ourselves now sooner, now later and at-
about it, could be called a preparation for examining it. tending to the ideas and judgements present in our 1111·nd <at tl1e t:une. B ut
in order to be able to repeat the sequence of inferences ii1 th .
§.333. . . . e sdme way
they first occurred 111 our soul, it helps to dll'ect our attention to the same
objects that we thought of at first. It may also be useful to place ourselves
IX. Directing one's attention preferentially towards
in the same external surroundings, e_ither: in fact or at least in thought. In
individual judgements and ideas
order to break off the sequence before 1t has fully r·tin 1·ts course et'ther
sooner or later, sometimes our will suffices, but sometimes it b
It is well known that for the most part we can choose towards which . . . . may e use- 355
ful to have a1.1 external object remmd us. Fmally, it is obvious that the
judgements currently in our souls we may direct our attention and that this
more uncertam one of these premises is in our eyes·, the n1ore att en t'ion
may strongly influence the good or bad results of our reflection, by raising
must be devoted to it, provided, that is, that we know of no other way to
now this, now that judgement or idea to a higher degree of vividness, per-
reach the conclusion without using it.
haps even to the level of clarity, or at least by bringing to consciousness
sometimes more, sometimes fewer associated ideas and judgements, and §.334.
thus generating judgements we had not previously formed (§286). Thus
it is reasonable to ask for a rule governing the use of our attention in the X. Associating our ideas with suitable signs.
process of reflection. It would be incorrect to say that we should simply Advantages of this association.
strive to attend to the largest possible number of judgements and ideas.
For since this mental power is of such a nature that it can only encompass In o~der to c~rry out the elevation of ideas to clarity as required by the
a finite number of phenomena in our soul at one time, is less efficacious prev10us section all the better, and for other reasons as well, it cannot be
the more things it is occupied with, and tires more quickly the more ar- recommended strongly enough that we also represent these 1·d I I
. . · · eas t uvug 1
duous its task, it is clear that the progress of our thought is slowed, and signs. Although the use of this means does not belong to pti re re·ft ec t'10n
we tire sooner, the greater the number of judgements and ideas we con- if the chosen signs are not mere ideas or the kind of obiect
• • . J we can pro-
354 sider, and also that by directing our attention towards one thing we may duce without. bemg clearly aware of domg so, it is nevertheless .
. .. necessary
perhaps withdraw it from another which merits it more. Thus we must to speak of it here, 111 part because some of these signs can be counted
make a rational choice of the ideas as well as the judgements we turn our among the objects of pure thought, and in part because the rules we must
attention to; and it is obvious (as has already been said in §325) that the follow in designating our ideas for the purposes of our own reflection
idea of the object which is the aim of our reflection has first call on our must be presupposed as known in the theory of scientific presentation.
attention. Above all, we must make this clear. Concerning the judge- Let us begin by making a survey of the advantages a suitable notation for
ments we form concerning this object, it will be appropriate to see first our ideas can bring to our reflection. (1) Merely seeking suitable signs
where reflection leads when we do not slow its natural progress by linger- ~or our ideas often results in ideas which were formerly obscure becom-
ing on each judgement until it becomes completely clear. Thinking with mg clear. (2) ~~en if th~s does not happe.n, perhaps because the sign is
partly obscure ideas proceeds much more briskly and does not tire us so already ~o fa~mha~· that It occurs t~ us wtt~out us having to first repre-
soon. Only when this sort of reflection leads to a conclusion that we find sent the idea 1t designates, an attentive cons1cleration of the s 1·on ., ·t'll
. . . . . . • b may S I 356
noteworthy need we attempt to elevate this conclusion, along with all the help us form an 111tmt10n of the designated idea, i.e., raise it to clarity.

236 237
 THE ART OF DISCOVERY§. 334.
(3) Only by associating our ideas with certain signs may we hope gradu-
ally to attain the power of calling forth these ideas whenever we wish. For
the idea of the sign, as an idea of a sensible object, may be much more eas-
ily raised to the necessary level of fluency, or else there are external means
for producing the ideas of this sign in us whenever we wish. But once it
is stimulated, the designated idea will also occur to us. (4) If we are used
not simply to forming vivid ideas of the chosen signs (sounds, figures,
etc.) but rather of really producing them, then we soon acquire such fa-
cility in performing the necessary bodily movements that we may repeat
them whenever we like. And whenever we do this, or indeed simply at-
tempt to do it, the idea belonging to the sign will be renewed in our mind.
(5) The use of suitable signs greatly facilitates the retention of ideas which
are composed of many parts. For if such an idea has been before our mind
in its completeness a few times at the same time as the sign for it, such an
intimate connection is formed between all the constituents of this idea and
the idea of this sign that all recur whenever it does. But without such a
means of combination, some characteristic or other of the idea may easily
be omitted. (6) If the chosen signs are persistent external objects such as
figures or characters, and we do not content ourselves with mere ideas of
them but actually produce them, i.e., we write down our thoughts, then we
put ourselves in a position to recall these thoughts whenever we wish, to
357 examine them anew and, if they are found to be correct, deduce new con-
sequences from them. In this way we make our judgements more reliable,
we can impress them upon ourselves all the more firmly, and discover
truths which would otherwise remain unknown, since the sequences of
inferences involved are so long that not even the strongest memory could
retain them unaided. Just think of the truths we discover through written
calculations! (7) When we use written signs, it is possible to collect and
survey all the truths already known to us on our topic, and by frequently
and attentively running through this list discover how to further our in-
quiry. (8) Even a purely arbitrary combination of our signs guided by
blind chance can give rise to a number of new ideas and propositions, the
consideration of which may lead to new truths. (9) Next to such impor-
tant benefits, we may pass over others, e.g., that the mere coincidental
similarity and relations between signs may lead to useful thoughts. Only
one more thing deserves to be mentioned here, namely, that the repre-
sentation of our thoughts through signs which others can understand puts
us in a position to submit our claims, along with the reasons supporting
them, to the judgement of others.
238
General Rules
Note. It should not be overlooked that here I only wanted to point out
the benefits that signs have when used by oneself, and then only for the
purpose of discovering new truths. If I had spoken of the benefits of signs
in general, or even only of the advantages they have for the discovery
of new truths when they are in general use, I would have had to mention
many other things, principally that by communicating what we have gath-
ered from observation and reflection to our fellow men and transmitting 358
this to the remotest posterity, the expansion of knowledge may continue
ad infinitum.
§.335.
The nature of signs ·which are supposed to aid us in our
own reflection: 1) They must be sensible objects
It is obvious that we could not realise the just enumerated advantages
of designating our ideas if the signs chosen were not suitable for this end.
Thus it is necessary to make brief mention of the attributes signs must
have if we are to use them in our own reflection with hope of success.
First of all, it is certain that only sensible objects make for truly useful
signs. For there is no doubt that the ideas which such objects produce
in us, i.e., the so-called sensible ideas (of colours, sounds, shapes, etc.)
are among the most familiar of our ideas; nor that, although they are (as
I believe) complex, they nevertheless arise in us with the same rapidity
as simple ideas. From this it is understandable how they can serve as
a means for uniting all the individual parts of which a complex idea is
composed, and thus serve to bring it to mind.
§.336.
2) Which can be easily displayed anywhere
But it is not enough that the objects which are to serve as signs in the
process of reflection be sensible. They must also be such that it is in our
power to display them easily at any place. In §334 it was said that one
of the advantages of using suitable signs was that the effort required to
produce them can slow down the overly rapid flow of our thoughts. From 359
this it may be seen that the ease with which we are are able to produce
signs may be too great, as is the case with many words which suggest
themselves to us purely through habit, and are merely represented rather
239
 THE ART OF DISCOVERY§. 337, 338.
than actually spoken. But if too much effort and attention is required to
produce a sign, it is obvious that the process of thinking is unduly im-
peded by its use, that the attention we must devote to the sign may lead us
to lose sight of the designated idea, and that in every case our reflection
will proceed more slowly, and be more tiring. It is just as bad if we cannot
produce the sign wherever and whenever we wish, but only under special
conditions and at particular times and places. For then our thought, inso-
far as it has become accustomed to the assistance of these signs, will be
limited to specific times and places as well. Should someone say that we
can at least imagine an object which is difficult or impossible to produce,
and that this suffices, something which, as just noted, often occurs with
the words of our spoken language, I would counter that the mere imagin-
ing of a sign does not produce exactly the same effects as an externally
stimulated intuition, and also that even this mere imagining is not possi-
ble in all the cases where we might need the sign and, provided this is
easy enough, actually produce it as well.
§.337.
3) An inner connection between the idea of the sign and the
designated idea must either exist or else be easily produced
A given object does not become a sign of an idea merely because we want
360 it to, and even if it had all the other qualities of a suitable sign, it would
not be capable of awakening this idea in our mind if it lacked one, namely,
if the idea of the object was not associated with the idea it is supposed to
designate. As long as this association has not been established, the sign
does not recall the idea of which it is supposed to be a sign. Thus one
of the following two things must be the case with any object we choose
as a sign: either its idea must already be connected in our mind with
the idea we wish to designate, or else this connection must be easy to
establish. With a truly good sign, there is not simply a loose and indirect
connection, but rather an inner and immediate one, so that the idea of
the sign always brings forth that of the object without delay, and with the
requisite vividness.
§.338.
4) A suitable sign should not call forth any detrimental secondmy ideas
As already remarked in §285, no. 9, it is well-nigh inevitable that an
object used as a sign will call forth many secondary ideas along with the
240
General Rules
one we have specifically chosen it to stimulate. But if these secondary
ideas are of a kind which do not exercise any detrimental influence on
our judgements, if they do not lead us to ascribe attributes to the object
that sign refers to which do not really belong to it simply because the idea
of the sign is accompanied by ideas of these attributes and if, furthermore,
the secondary ideas do not attract too much of our attention or stimulate
dangerous sensations or desires, then we may nevertheless consider the
signs serviceable. To this attribute of a sign, which I shall call its purity, 361
there belongs the fact that the object of which it consists is not itself
attractive. For if this were the case, there would be the risk that upon
perceiving the sign our mind would attend to it alone, and the idea it was
supposed to introduce would either not be called forth at all or else would
not attain the requisite clarity. The case would be similar even if the sign
itself was not attractive, but was associated with other, very attractive
ideas, perhaps because it once served as a sign of these. What may be
said of attractive things holds equally well for repulsive things. If the
object which is to serve as a sign is either itself repugnant, or associated
with repulsive secondary ideas, it will not be able to call forth the idea it
is supposed to designate with the requisite clarity and vividness, and will
have a detrimental effect on the entire course of our thoughts. There are,
alas! all too many examples where a single detested word has hindered
the recognition of the most beneficial truths.
§.339.
Special attributes of signs that are supposed to preserve our thoughts:
I) They must be sufficiently long-lasting
The attributes indicated so far must belong so generally to signs used
in our reflection that they are already necessary if we use them merely
for the purpose of making our ideas more distinct. But as we have seen
above, one of the greatest benefits of using signs is only realised when
the signs are employed to give a kind of lasting existence outside of us to
the thoughts that rush by within our consciousness, whereby it becomes 362
possible to reawaken years later the same thoughts we had, say, today in
much the same order, and to communicate them to others. In order to do
this, however, we must not choose as signs objects which are just as fleet-
ing as our thoughts themselves, as is the case, for example, with sounds
and words. Rather, these must be persistent objects which, once pro-
duced, will continue to exist on their own for a time without undergoing
any change that would result in their no longer being the same signs.
241
 THE ART OF DISCOVERY §. 340-342.
§.340.
2) They should be easily recognised everywhere
If we wish to use certain signs for the purpose of preserving our thoughts,
if the signs are to make it possible for us at any later time to recall the
same series of ideas we had earlier as soon as we consider these signs
again, it is obviously not enough that the sensible objects of which the
signs consist merely remain unaltered in the interim; rather, it is also nec-
essary that when we look at them we recognise them as precisely what
they should be, namely, signs of these ideas. Thus what is essential in
them, i.e., what makes them signs and indeed signs of precisely these
and no other ideas, must be easily recognisable under all circumstances.
For if this were not the case, when confronted with such a sign we could
only sometimes and after strenuous concentration of our attention recog-
nise that it is a sign and what it is a sign of. We would have to fear that
this recognition would often fail to take place, that we would often guess
incorrectly, and that even when we guessed correctly the difficulties in-
363 volved in their interpretation would soon prove tiring.
§.341.
3) Identical signs should never have several easily confused meanings
From what has just been said it also follows that no sign is truly useful
for the purpose of preserving our thoughts if it has several meanings,
especially meanings that are easily confused with one another. Otherwise,
when we wish to recall a sequence of thoughts that we wrote down a long
time ago and have since forgotten, such signs must give rise to doubts,
and sometimes we will either be completely unable, or else only able
after laborious reflection, to determine in which of its several senses it
was taken. And even when this does not occur, the associated ideas which
such a sign stimulates in our mind due to its other meanings may exercise
a detrimental influence on the course of our thoughts.
§.342.
4) Different ideas should never be expressed by
means of signs which are too similar
For the same reason, however, it is also wrong when the signs we use to
designate different ideas are too similar to one another, that is, when it
is not possible to avoid confusing them unless one is especially attentive.
242
General Rules
For if such confusions occur, i.e., when we fail to notice the difference
between certain signs because it is not striking enough, then we are in
just as bad and perhaps a worse state than if there were no difference
at all, i.e., as if we had allowed one and the same sign to have several
meanings.
§.343.
Some other recommended attributes of signs
We may look upon the four attributes of signs discussed in §335-§338
as ones which should always be present if the signs are to be of use to 364
us in our reflection, while the next four, discussed in §339-§342, should
never be lacking if the signs are used for the special purpose of preserv-
ing our thoughts. But there are other attributes of signs which, although
not necessary, can nevertheless increase their utility. I call these recom-
mended attributes. (1) One of these is that the chosen signs bear a certain
sit~itm:ity to the objects standing under the designated idea, a similarity
which is not only so great that no other sensible object could be chosen
as a sign that would be more similar, but also great enough that we can
perceive some of the properties of the objects in the signs as well. It is
already obvious from the fact that there are objectless ideas that this at-
tribute cannot be required of all signs. But even if the idea for which we
are seeking a sign is objectual, this object may be so peculiar, and dif-
fer so greatly from any sensible object that we might choose as a sign
(§335~'. that. we cannot find a single object with the required similarity.
Even if the idea to be designated represents sensible objects, and even if
signs with the required similarity could be found for each of these ob-
jects, these objects may be so numerous and diverse that no sign may be
found which bears the required similarity towards all of them. We have
examples in the ideas "animal", "colour", and others. Finally, the idea
to be designated may have an object for which a quite similar sign may
be found, but the latter is so elaborately complex that it would not really
make a suitable sign. In all such cases we must relinquish the require- 365
ment of similarity. But when this attribute is genuinely present, there is
no doubt that it is advantageous. For the greater the similarity between a
~ign and. the objects the idea of which is supposed to bring forth the sign
m our mmd, the more easily we will be able to recognise its meaning, i.e.,
to establish an appropriate connection between the idea of these objects
with the idea specified to awaken the former. The greater the similarity,
243
 THE ART OF DISCOVERY§. 343.
the more it is to be expected that the mere sight of the sign will bring to
mind many of the particular attributes of the object of our reflection. Not
to mention the pleasure of being able to say why precisely this sign was
chosen ahead of so many other possible ones. (2) But if a sign cannot be
similar to the object it is supposed to designate, it may nevertheless stand
in relations to signs used to designate other objects which bear a cer-
tain similarity to the relations between the designated objects themselves,
and this too is an advantage. For since the relations obtaining between
signs as sensible objects can be perceived by sight, noticing these can
help to bring to mind the similar relations between the designated objects.
(3) Since every sign which is an external, perceptible object must be com-
plex, they may sometimes be constructed in such as way that one or more
of their parts already possesses a meaning. It is to be expected that the
idea that such an individual part designates will come to mind when the
whole sign is perceived. This is not a matter of indifference, since sec-
ondary ideas may be introduced in this way which may lead us astray in
366 our assessments of the designated objects. If this really happens, then it
is an offence against the purity of signs required according to §338. But
it is also possible, at least in some cases, for a sign to be composed of
parts in such a way that the peculiarities of the meanings of these parts
facilitate the formation of the idea the whole sign is supposed to stimu-
late. This is a case which must occur, notably, when the individual parts
of which the sign is composed designate the individual ideas of which
the idea designated by the whole sign is composed. It is easy to see that
we would not be justified in requiring this attribute in every case, since
the advantages it b1ings will frequently be outweighed by disadvantages
of other kinds-e.g., with highly complex ideas, the signs would have
to be overly intricate and thus difficult to produce. But where no such
disadvantages are present, this property is doubtless a highly valuable
one. (4) From this it follows immediately that it is advantageous for signs
belonging to simple ideas to have no meaningful parts themselves. All
other things being equal, signs of this kind will be all the more com-
mendable the simpler they are or the more homogeneous their parts. For
this simplicity or homogeneity already points to the simplicity of the idea.
(5) When I demanded (§338) for the sake of the purity of a sign that the
object of which it consists have nothing, either in itself or in combination
with others, which is either attractive or repulsive, this was not meant to
require that its particular constitution or the ideas associated with it must
be indifferent to the soul. On the contrary, it will be advantageous if the
244
General Rules
idea of the sign is moderately agreeable, and if the associated ideas help
to call forth the idea that is supposed to be designated by the sign. Thus
a sign which looks pleasant for an idea we do not find repulsive will, all 367
other things being equal, be more beneficial than one that we find ugly;
while a sign that is repulsive in and of itself may be quite suitable for an
object that we should find repulsive and detestable, since it promotes the
formation of the idea that is supposed to come forth, etc.
Note. When LAMBERT (N. 0., II. Sem., §23) indicates as the highest
perfection of a sign that one might exchange the theory of the signs with
the theory of the things, he seems to have had in mind nothing other than
the property mentioned in no. 2, i.e., that the signs should be related as the
things themselves. But this, as may be seen from what L. acids afterwards,
is not always entirely possible, for omnis similitudo claudicat. 1
§.344.
Rules for the invention and use of signs for the purposes
of one's own reflection
What I have just said about the attributes of appropriate signs puts me in
a position to indicate rules that should be observed in their invention and
use. But here I shall only speak of the rules to be followed if the signs are
to be used for our own reflection.
l) Before we invent a new sign for an idea we wish to designate, let us
first see whether we already possess one, or others have already devised
one, and, if this is the case, let us retain that sign unless there are weighty
reasons why it is unsuitable. It quite often occurs in our reflection that we
hit upon an idea that at first glance seems to be something we have never
thought before, but when we consider it a little longer, and from different
sides, and search our memory, we recall that we have already thought it, 368
and indeed designated it. It happens even more often that an idea which
is new to us has already long been considered by others, and provided
with a quite appropriate sign. If, without having first looked into this, we
wish to devise our own designation for the idea, do we not run the risk of
replacing the better with the worse? Moreover, if we haven't completely
forgotten the previous sign, when it occurs to us at some point, how will
we be able to avoid the error of thinking that two things which are at
bottom the same are in fact different? And if we want to communicate
1All comparisons limp.
245
 THE ART OF DISCOVERY§. 344.
our thoughts to others so that they may examine them, how inconvenient
it will be to have to acquaint them with the ways of speaking we have
so needlessly introduced! On account of the difficulties caused by this,
would it not be reasonable to retain signs that are already in general use,
even when they do not seem the most suitable to us? In order to force
us to reject a sign, it must have essential shortcomings, shortcomings that
outweigh the bother of learning something new.
2) If no serviceable sign is available, we see whether among the al-
ready existing signs there is one that might be used to designate our new
idea in the future, without creating the possibility of misunderstandings.
If the new meaning which the sign is to have in addition to those it already
possesses is so different that the circumstances in which we use the sign
will always make it obvious enough which sense is intended, we need fear
no misunderstanding. It is all the better if the differences in one respect
are complemented by similarities in another, since the new meaning can
be retrieved all the more easily from memory-and this is a satisfactory
reason for our choice of this sign over others that might in other respects
369 have been just as serviceable. Thus the word "grasp", which originally
designated an action of the hands, can quite appropriately be used to des-
ignate the somewhat similar action of our understanding. For the two
meanings are different enough that we can know in each case which was
meant, yet they are similar enough that we can see why we chose pre-
cisely this word to designate this mental activity.
3) If we find that the meaning of a sign already in use bears consider-
able similarity to our new idea, so that the sign might easily be used for
the latter as well, but that the similarity is so great that there is a risk of
confusing the two meanings, we consider whether some small alteration,
some addition or deletion, might result in a sign that would be more wel-
come than a completely new sign. Thus, for example, the easily confused
concepts which are designated by the word "Verdienst" in the following
sentences are sufficiently distinguished by the gender: "Der Anne hat
keinen Verdienst," "Der Reiche hat kein Verdienst." 1
4) If a suitable sign for our idea cannot be found in the way described,
there is nothing for it but to devise a new one. If the idea we seek to des-
ignate is one which is going to be used frequently, then even if we already
possess a suitable enduring, written sign for it, it is advisable to go fur-
ther and devise an audible sign for it, indeed one we can produce with our
mouth and write clown in our existing system of writing. Sounds are the
1'The
poor man has no income," "The rich man has no merit."
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means we have used from our childhood to express our thoughts, so that
we are so accustomed to connect a specific word, or at least the idea of a
word, with every idea of which we are clearly aware that when we cannot 370
do this, something seems to be lacking. But if we can only imagine a word
that has been chosen as a sign for an idea, but are unable easily to produce
it, the sign will not have the attribute required in §336. Since in addition
most sounds that we can easily produce with our mouths, or at any rate a
great number of them, can also be represented in alphabetic script, i.e.,
the kind of writing where complex sounds are designated by representing
the individual sounds of which they are composed, the requirement that
only such audible signs be chosen is in no way an improper restriction.
But following this rule has the advantage that we do not need special new
signs when we want to write down these audible signs for some reason
or other-for instance, so that we may recall them later when we have
forgotten them.
5) Yet only in rare cases will it suffice to have only an audible sym-
bol; most often we will also need a second, written sign as well-if for
no other reason than that we may write clown our thoughts so that they
may be recalled in the future. If the audible signs are formed according
to the rule indicated above, then this written sign must simply be an ex-
pression of the audible sign in the alphabetic script. But in certain cases,
especially when we desire a brief overview, or where expressing things in
the usual vocal language would be too drawn out, we must seek simpler
written signs. Abbreviations obtained, e.g., by omitting most vowels or
other easily guessed letters or syllables is perhaps the first thing that will 371
occur to us here. But if this does not suffice, we must devise individual,
easily drawn signs for frequently occurring concepts and propositions,
as mathematicians have clone and continue to do in their science to such
great benefit.
6) When attempting to devise an audible or written sign, we should
keep three things especially in mind: they should be easy to produce, free
from association with ideas that may lead us astray, and clearly different
from any other signs that designate other ideas. The reasons for this may
be found in what was said above. If on top of this we are able to make our
sign somewhat similar to the designated object, or the relations between
this sign and others similar to those between the objects they variously
designate, so much the better.
7) If the idea to be designated is simple, then the sign must be as
simple as possible, compatible with its being perceptible and readily dis-
247
 THE ART OF DISCOVERY§. 344.
tinguished from other signs. Signs for complex ideas, however, should be
combinations of signs of the simple parts of the idea, provided this does
not result in a sign which is overly complicated. If the latter would be the
case, the sign should be composed of signs for the most important parts
of the entire idea. And if even this would be asking too much, as would
be the case with a sequence of ideas, each of which was composed of its
predecessors, then on occasion a new, simple sign must take the place of
a complex one. With the Roman numerals, for instance, the numbers 1,
2, 3, 4, are represented as I, II, III, IIII, but the number 5 as V, and 6, 7, 8,
9, accordingly as VI, VII, VIII, VIIII, while the number 10 is represented
as X (i.e., V and V).
8) Once we have decided that we want to use a sign for our idea,
372 we must take care that this sign is so intimately connected with the idea
that every time we represent the sign, we also become conscious of the
designated idea. Otherwise, it might happen that we use the sign without
thinking the idea it is supposed to designate. This is a flaw that not only
destroys the entire aim of our employing signs, but also can give rise to the
grossest errors, if the obscure idea that a glance at the sign produces leads
us to ascribe attributes to the designated object that really only belong to
the sign or else to the object the obscure idea represents. Even with the
highly developed signs of mathematics, people commit e1rnrs when they
forget the wider sense that these signs have in certain cases, manipulating
them in ways that are only justified when the signs are taken in their
narrower senses. Thus it would be hasty to conclude from the equation
ax= bx that a = b, if x represents a quantity in the broadest sense of this
word, which includes zero. In order to avoid this danger, we must not
only repeatedly think of the sign at the same time as we think the idea it
is supposed to designate at the start, but also recall this idea from time to
time when looking at the sign.
9) Sometimes we need to have more than just one audible and one
written sign, since the constant repetition of the same sign whenever the
same idea recurs would not only prove revolting and fatiguing, but also
cause a certain confusion, meaning that we would not be able properly
to grasp the thought that is represented. How awful it would be if the
concept of speaking or that belonging to the word "that" had to be ex-
pressed by the same word every time it occurs in the following propo-
sition: "Someone told me how someone else had communicated to him
373 that people had already said I had claimed etc." But where it is not nec-
essary to use different signs for the same idea in order to avoid disgust
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or fatigue or for the sake of some other benefit, such alternation will al-
ways be blameworthy, especially if our goal is simply to write clown our
thoughts so that we may communicate them to others or examine them
later. Apart from the fact that it is bothersome when we or others are
not familiar enough with the different signs, when we read at a later time
what we have written, the sight of clifferent signs for one and the same
idea will make also us feel compelled to seek the reason which led us
to use now one, now another of these signs. If it is not obvious enough
what reason there might have been for the alternation, this will cause the
unpleasant sensation that we do not know how to answer this question,
or else we will guess based on reasons which are not in fact valid, sus-
pecting an indication of a distinction when none was intended, and in any
case dividing our attention and tiring us. It is another matter when we
ourselves are caught up in reflection and already know and are familiar
with the several signs we intend to use to express the same idea. Here it
can in fact be useful to express the thoughts which are to be considered
more closely not only in one way but in all the various ways we are used
to expressing them. For since each of these signs is associated with its
own series of secondary ideas, things which can help us solve our prob-
lem may occur to us, and thus lead us more rapidly to our goal. People
will scarcely believe how beneficial this is. Yet who has not had the ex-
perience of the same proposition which has been represented repeatedly 374
in the same words appearing new if expressed differently?
10) If it is a mistake to use now this now that sign for the same con-
cept for no reason, then it is an even bigger one to have fewer signs than
we have ideas, i.e., to use the same sign now in this, now in that sense,
when the context does not always make it clear that we are speaking of
different things in different places. If this is not obvious enough then not
only others, but we too may forget these differences of meaning and think
that something we have shown to be true of objects comprehended by one
sense of our ambiguous sign is also true of objects covered by the other
sense. But if this can happen by forgetting even in cases where at the
beginning we were fully aware at the start that the same sign was being
taken in different senses, it is easy to see that the clanger of error is all the
greater when we do not even know at the time of using a sign in a differ-
ent sense that we are doing so. This happens to us quite often when we
either frequently take a sign in several similar senses (even if fully aware
of doing so at the start), or else hear others do this. From this comes the
rule that when expressing our ideas through signs we must be constantly
249
 THE ART OF DISCOVERY§. 344.
attentive to ensure that we always take the same sign in the same sense
or, if this is not feasible, to check whether we have assumed that some-
thing demonstrated for the one sense also holds for the second. It is the
violation of this rule that is responsible for most of the errors committed
in the purely conceptual sciences. When it is claimed, for example, that
375 no extended thing can be composed of unextended parts, that every effect
must be later than its cause, that man has no duties towards Goel, that
miracles are no proof of divine revelation, and so on, these are all errors
based upon ambiguities that have not been appropriately noticed.
11) If we may not allow ourselves to use the same sign now in this,
now in that meaning, then the metaphorical use of a sign (§285, no. 8)
must also be looked upon as an error. That is, it is an error to take a sign
in a sense that is only similar to its proper sense, one which we specify
only to the extent of demanding that the expression as it occurs in a given
context be interpreted in a way that would not have us say something
absurd, but where the context does not fully determine the meaning of
the sign. When we do this, we expose ourselves along with others to
whom we communicate our thoughts to the risk of altering the meaning
of the sign as it recurs, and thus falling into error. For since the meaning
in which the sign is supposed to be taken is left indeterminate, there is
no wonder that we connect now this, now that meaning with it without
being clearly aware of doing so, and are all the more easily deceived.
Thus it does not seem too severe, at least in the case of reflection aimed at
determining concepts more precisely, to lay clown the rule that one must
forego any metaphorical use of signs.
12) Given that I said (§333) that it was neither useful nor even possi-
ble to employ only clear ideas in reflection, it is obvious that one cannot
376 demand that every thought be represented in signs. On the contrary, it
is enough if we attempt to do this for the part of our thoughts where
this already happens through force of habit, or where one of the bene-
fits enumerated in §334 may be expected if we do so-e.g., if this makes
it easier for us to become clearly aware of an idea, if writing clown our
thoughts would allow us to preserve them more faithfully than mere mem-
ory would, or if we intend to communicate them to others so that they may
examine them.
13) But if we are permitted occasionally to reflect with obscure ideas,
then it must also be permissible to apply signs without being clearly aware
of the ideas we connect with them and, indeed, even if we are not clearly
aware of the signs. For if we have often used a sign, we acquire such skill
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General Rules
in the art of representing it and in bringing about the changes in the exter-
nal world required to produce it, that we can sometimes do either without
being clearly aware of it. Usually the idea of the sign arises, sometimes
even accompanied by some of the actions required to produce it, when the
idea it designates is only dimly present to our consciousness. And if we
wanted to prevent this, if we did not want to allow ourselves to represent
this sign or pe1form any of the actions required to produce it, we would
have to forcibly constrain ourselves, and disrupt our train of thought. But
what benefit would come of this restraint, especially since the signs we
are accustomed to are easy and appropriate enough, and in addition are
usually merely imagined rather than actually produced? Rather, precisely
because thinking with signs, and representing these signs outside of us (in
a kind of writing) comes naturally to us, the signs may sometimes bring
us the great benefit of getting to know and being able to examine more 377
carefully a thought that was only briefly before our mind. Thus it should
not be held against us if we sometimes speak or write in the process of
reflection without being able to distinctly indicate what we have said or
written. We may do this, I say, if our goal is to become aware of what
we have accomplished along the path of mere obscure ideas, and thus
do not intend to look upon the results as established truths, but rather as
something to be rigorously examined.
Note. Given the many flaws of all existing languages and systems of
signs, even the most perfected, and the indisputable fact that they may all
be improved in certain ways, it must be exceedingly difficult to devise a
completely new universal language, answering perfectly to all the wishes
of logic, a language which would render all others superfluous, at least
for scholarly use. Of that which RAYMONDUS LULLUS, AGRICOLA,
BRUNO, BECHER, ATHAN. KIRCHER, the great LEIBNIZ, KUI-ILMANN,
WILKINS, SOLBRIG, HARTLEY, BILFINGER, MEIER, PLOUCQUET,
KALMAR, BERGER, LAMBERT and others have either proposed or con-
sidered as already accomplished in spirit, nothing has survived the test
of time. Without a doubt, the most important was LEIBNIZ' s claim that
he could indicate a number for every concept in such a way that merely
by combining these signs according to certain universally valid rules one
could bring forth the most important truths. What should we say to this?
Was the great man overhasty? Did he flatter himself with the thought that
he had made a discovery that he only later discovered to be illusory, and
was he later unwilling to admit his error? Might not the thing he sought,
and which he thought he had found, be a bare impossibility? 378
251
 THE ART OF DISCOVERY§. 345, 346.
§.345.
XI. The use qf images connected with our ideas
If what I have said in §284 about the images connected with our ideas is
not false, then in our reflection many such images of the objects we want
to judge will present themselves unbidden, and we will be able to intro-
duce others that may be raised to a high degree of vividness if we dwell
on the idea to which they belong. The question arises of whether and in
what cases we do this, and of how we should allow ourselves to use such
images. Ordinary people, when they set out to make a judgement about
an object, begin by calling forth an image accompanying the concept of
this object, and try to make it as vivid as possible. They then ascribe the
attributes they find in this image to the objects themselves. This proce-
dure should be rejected in part, but not completely. For we must doubtless
first consider the idea which englobes the object or objects about which
we intend to make a judgement (as was already said in §333); from this
it naturally results that the image connected with this idea (if we should
happen to have one) also appears, and we are right to make it more vivid
rather than suppressing it. For given the way that this image was pro-
duced in us, it may well lead us to many useful thoughts. Many of the
attributes that belong to this image actually belong to all of the objects
as well, while others belong to at least some of them; finally, the truth
that one of these attributes belongs to none of the objects may well be
a truth worth taking to heart. In any case, we may look upon the image
as well as the propositions it suggests to us as worthy of our attention.
379 We would only do wrong in immediately taking these propositions to be
truths, since we should first examine them, and allow the results of this
examination to determine whether we should accept or reject them.
§.346.*
XII. Consideration of the logical attributes and
relations of our judgements and ideas
The logical attributes and relations of our judgements and ideas are those
with which the concepts of logic acquaint us, e.g., what is the subject
and what the predicate in a given judgement, of what parts a given idea
is composed, etc. Becoming distinctly aware of these attributes and re-
lations in our reflection will only rarely fail to yield benefits. For not
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only does the recognition of such attributes and relations provide an ex-
cellent exercise in thinking, it also gives us the opportunity to notice a
great many errors we would otherwise have missed, it leads us to a num-
ber of consequences that otherwise would not have occurred to us, and
makes us rightly more confident in the correctness of the judgements we
make. Thus in all reflection involved with a difficult inquiry, where there
is clanger of getting tangled up in the web of our own concepts, we will
do well to take a closer look at the logical attributes and relations of our
own judgements and ideas, and often to make a separate problem of their
determination. It is obvious, however, that we only do this for ideas and
judgements when it promises to be beneficial.
§.347.
XIII. Estimating the reliability of the answer we have discovered
All of our judgements, with the exception of the few that we form either
directly or without the mediation of a probable inference, enjoy only a 380
limited degree of confidence (§319). Thus in a complete solution we must
only claim the proposition to be true with the degree of confidence that
accords with its actual probability, and only declare it to be the required
answer with the degree of confidence that accords with the probability
of the second claim. It is also obvious that, generally speaking, it is less
harmful to err on the low side in this double question of confidence. Thus
it is reasonable at the encl of an inquiry, provided that circumstances and
time allow for it, to undertake a new consideration aimed at determining
the degree of confidence with which we may assume that the proposition
we have discovered is true, and an answer to the question we had before
us. But since this degree can only be determined in a very few cases, we
must content ourselves with an approximation, remembering to err on the
low rather than on the high side. Thus we must consider not only the rea-
sons that speak in favour of our decision, but also those that speak against
it. We must also bring to mind how often others have erred before us when
they imagined they had found the answer to this problem, and how often
we ourselves have been deceived by the mere appearance of truth with
other problems, if not this one. But if the following conditions are met,
the result of our inquiry will attain a degree of reliability that can and
(provided we are not afflicted by a general scepticism) will set our mind
at rest; for this reason they are called indicators (or criteria) of certainty:
(1) if our judgement (as it is usually said) forces itself irresistibly upon
us, i.e., when all attempts to think of things being otherwise simply bring
253
 THE ART OF DISCOVERY§. 347.
forth the judgement that they are not (see §43); (2) when we recognise
381 with a high degree of confidence that our judgement belongs to the class
of those which we form without any mediation (§311). For the reliability
of these judgements is at least as great as the reliability of our recogni-
tion that they are immediate; (3) when we discover that our judgement
may be deduced from other, highly reliable judgements by an easy and
secure inference. (4) Even a judgement that has been deduced through a
long and intricate sequence of inferences can have a high degree of relia-
bility if this sequence of inferences has been run through many times, if
the same result has been obtained in different ways or, finally, if many
other people have examined our reasons and found them convincing.
(5) Our judgement acquires an almost infallible certainty if it is con-
firmed by the pronouncement of common sense in the sense explained
in §331. (6) All propositions of experience, strictly speaking, are based
upon merely probable inferences from propositions of the form: "If cer-
tain intuitions a, b, c, d are often found together at the same time, then
they are (probably) produced by the same cause." But if the number of
such cases is large enough, propositions of this kind may attain a degree
of reliability that is equivalent to that of complete certainty as regards its
effects (§161, §317-319).
Note. The theory of the criteria of truth and certainty has been so
much discussed that I can only mention a few of the most recent views
on the subject here. GEBNER (Specitl. u. Traum., II, p. 10) would have
it that the only criterion of truth is an inner compulsion, the coercion of
thought. But although I myself (§291, no. 5) claimed that our judging is
anything but arbitrary, it seems to me that the words compulsion or co-
ercion are not suitable here. For is any coercion present, anything which
goes against our will, when we judge, e.g., that we are now having a
382 pleasant sensation? And is not this judgement both true and certain when
we form it? But perhaps these words are simply meant to convey that
with truth we have a feeling that it would be impossible to judge other-
wise? We do in fact often speak of such a feeling of impossibility, and
I myself used a similar expression in no. 1, though I took care to define
it. For we can never actually feel that something is impossible. Rather,
we can only learn that all our previous attempts to bring it about (in the
present case, all our attempts to convince ourselves of the contrary of
what we hold to be true) were in vain. According to COUSIN and DAM-
IRON (Psycho!., I, p. 148 seq.) the only things that are true are those that
present themselves to us without any reflection, where we say II est, voila
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General Rules
fe vrai/ 1 but not II me paraft, je pense/ 2 But are we not sometimes de-
ceived by first impressions? And must not what is true stand up to long
reflection, and prove itself? The important criterion of common sense (no.
5) has been misrepresented by some, who go too far in claiming it to be
the only one, and thus neglect to indicate more precisely the cases where
it is applicable. The late HERMES (Einl. in die kathol. Theo!., 2nd ed.,
I, p. 217 ff.) laid great stress on the following criterion that he himself
had devised. Having remarked that with practical reason there may also
arise a necessity to take something as true which is theoretically doubtful,
he expresses the indicators of such cases as follows: "We are obliged to
accept as true a theoretically dubitable cognition when the fulfilment of
a certain unconditional, universal duty depends upon our making this as-
sumption (namely, the present fulfilment of the duty) in all and only those
cases where there is no reason to doubt of its truth which can be inferred
from some special case of the universal duty in question." The objections
I have to this view, which resembles the Kantian method of postulation,
have already been stated in §315. I also believe that in order to know that
a case of duty exists (e.g., to bury a corpse) it is by no means necessary to
hold something to be certain which is theoretically dubitable (here, that
the man is actually dead); rather, it suffices that there is an overwhelming 383
probability that the performance of this action will promote the general
well being more than its omission (§321 note). Indeed, I believe that the
condition that HERMES requires for the assumption that a case of duty
exists can never occur in actuality. He would have it that we can only
assume that a case of duty exists if no grounds for doubt are opposed
to this assumption which would not apply to all other cases. Obviously,
however, such an assumption is an experiential proposition, which has a
degree of probability that always falls short of certainty, and it is precisely
this shortfall that provides the full measure of the grounds for doubt. No
matter how small this may be in some cases, it is always possible to think
of other circumstances under which it would be smaller; thus there is no
case where this reason for doubt is so small that none could be smaller.
§.348.*
XIV. Additional rules concerning the conditions of thought
What I have said so far is just about everything I have been able to no-
tice concerning the correct method of rational reflection. The only thing
1It is so, it is true.
2 It seems to me, I think.
255
 THE ART OF DISCOVERY§. 348.
remaining is to touch upon several rules that concern not thought as such
but rather the circumstances in which thinking is done. (1) Experience
teaches us that we are not always able and disposed to undertake the busi-
ness of reflection. It is easy to see why this is so. All reflection, as mental
activity, requires a certain mental strength and, due to the intimate con-
nection between mind and body, bodily strength as well. Even if it can
never be said of a simple being like our soul that long exertion or other
384 activity will tire or weaken it, there is no doubt that our bodily forces vary
considerably. Thus merely because we lack the necessary bodily strength
and conditioning, it can occur that we are unfit for reflection. This is the
case, in particular, when we have previously engaged in long, strenuous
reflection. We must also have control of our attention and be able to di-
rect it towards a particular subject for a long time if we are to reflect on
it. This can be quite difficult, however, when our mind is occupied with
other matters, and even more difficult if the object we are supposed to
reflect on recalls these other matters. Thus, insofar as possible, we must
choose a time when we are disposed to reflect. We must either be healthy
or at least free of the illnesses that hinder thought or our ability to pay
attention to a determinate subject. Our mind must be at peace, there must
be no other object present that we find so attractive that we cannot tear
ourselves away from it. (2) Just as the condition we are in is anything
but indifferent to the business of reflection, so too is this the case for
the things surrounding us. If these make too strong, varied, and unusual
impressions on us, then they draw too much of our attention, and it be-
comes impossible to follow through to the end the sequence of ideas we
hope will lead to the discovery of the truth we desire to know. If, on the
contrary, the impressions the external world makes on us are too weak
and uniform (as is the case, say, when we intentionally close off some
of our senses), our awareness of the external world will gradually dwin-
385 dle, making us incapable of properly retaining the ideas or judgements
we have just formed, etc. Our thought would thus become as defective
and unreliable as it does when we dream. One who wishes to reflect suc-
cessfully must therefore choose an environment that does not draw too
much of his attention, and also not shut off his senses to the degree that
his consciousness of the external world becomes like a dream. (3) It can-
not be recommended strongly enough that we do not proceed too quickly
in reflection. For mere haste is often enough responsible for our not ade-
quately considering the reasons supporting an opinion we have adopted,
or for our confusing a judgement we wanted to retrieve from memory
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General Rules
with another that is merely similar to it, and so on. (4) Let us also stop
our reflections as soon as we feel fatigued. For not only will we work
without success and simply waste time, indeed run the risk of mistaking
error for truth, if our forces are spent, but also our health may suffer se-
rious and hard to repair damage. (5) Nothing is more dangerous for the
recognition of truth in reflection than a decided inclination for or against
a proposition, i.e., a wish that we might be brought through our reflection
to find the proposition either true or false. There is no disputing that such
wishes are quite often present: we wish for various reasons that we might
be persuaded that a certain claim is true, e.g., because the proposition in
question would license us to satisfy our sensual desires, or would justify
our previous actions, or sometimes even for moral reasons. Naturally,
such wishes are not always without effect; rather, they often lead us to
direct our attention to the genuine or merely apparent reasons in favour
of the claim we favour and to ignore those that speak against it. Indeed, 386
we should not forget that we can do this without being distinctly aware of
it ourselves. But whether we do this intentionally or not, it is understand-
able that we often succeed in our endeavours, i.e., we take the proposition
to be genuinely true, no matter how false it may be in and of itself. Thus
if we wish to avoid the danger of such errors of self-persuasion (§306),
we must watch out for such wishes and, if we cannot prevent ourselves
from having them, must set ourselves the rule of always paying most at-
tention to the reasons which speak against what we so eagerly wish to
find true. (6) Our reflection is disturbed in another manner when fear and
hope colour our expectation of the conclusion we shall reach. For either
we are too hasty or, even if we proceed slowly, we may miss altogether
something that is right under our noses because the peace of mind re-
quired for observation is lacking due to the confusion of our senses. We
must strive to keep ourselves free of such overwhelming fears and hopes,
and to this end must either (if this is possible) try to forget the importance
the conclusion will have for us, or (if that is impossible) try to reduce
the question before us to several others which, considered individually,
do not have the same importance, but together provide an answer to the
former. Thus, for example, an accountant who is supposed to sum a large
number of entries and who hopefully expects that this sum will equal a
certain number, can help himself in this respect by breaking up the en-
tries into two or more groups. If none of the above means is possible or
helpful, then we are incapable of undertaking the inquiry properly, and
must ask others to look into things for us. Thus, for example, even the 387
257
 THE ART OF DISCOVERY§. 348.
most competent doctor is not capable of properly judging the condition
of a patient whose life is too dear to him. (7) With inquiries where errors
can easily creep in, no matter how collected our thought, it is necessm·y to
repeat the inquiry many times and, where possible, to reach the answer to
the question before us in different ways. If we have tried this, and found
the same answer in every case, it is obvious that we may have even more
confidence in its correctness. For even if we have always taken the same
path and never thought of changing the course of our thoughts, accidental
differences in the circumstances under which we repeat one and the same
inquiry will introduce diversity into the sequence of our ideas; thus it is
possible that in repeating these reflections we shall either avoid an error
we committed when reflecting the first time, or else become aware of it
thanks to the light shed by the newly introduced ideas. If we have gone so
far as to try different ways, using now these, now some other premises, it
would be still more odd if we did not perceive any errors. For the error to
remain undetected it would either have to be the case that its source was
in one of the premises we did not change and which was overlooked on
every occasion, or (far more improbably) that we made different e1rnrs in
every case, but such errors as led to the same conclusion. (8) From the
above explanations it is clear that we will do well to repeat our attempts
to answer a question not in immediate sequence, but rather at appropri-
388 ate intervals, and to alter our environs or other things within our con-
trol in order to ensure that the course of our thoughts is always different.
(9) In cases where the sought answer does not suggest itself even after
long inquiry, we must guard against impatience. For if we are annoyed
we are all the less in a state to discover the truth we seek. And does not
reflection whose conduct is disagreeable affect our health? We should
rather set the matter aside as soon as we begin to lose patience and return
to it later, when we are more fresh. (10) It should also be noted that every-
one has his own peculiarities that he must get to know in order to direct
his reflection. Some, for instance, will think better when their bodies m·e
at rest, while others will think better when they are engaged in some light
physical activity. (11) In conclusion, it may not be superfluous to warn
against an overly scrupulous observance of the rules that are supposed
to govern reflection. For one may be too careful in following rules, and
worrying about whether one has followed all the rules may make one less
likely to succeed.
Note. The last mistake I mentioned is encountered not only in reflec-
tion but in so many other activities as well, that it is desirable to have a
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General Rules
name for it. To my knowledge, there is no word that fully expresses the
concept of this mistake, and we have only loan words for the two most
noteworthy species of this genus. The care taken to observe certain rules,
even if not excessive, can be detrimental if the rules are incorrect. This
case is not noteworthy enough to merit designation. But even when the 389
rules are correct, an exaggerated observance of them can lead to clum-
siness that might otherwise have been avoided. Our activity will be too
slow and clumsy, we will misapply a correct rule, exceed the just measure
in its application or, paying too much attention to one rule, forget others.
The case where this occurs for moral reasons-e.g., from fear of evil,
of doing wrong-is especially worthy of attention. It is usually called
scrupulousness or having an anxious conscience. If it does not occur for
this reason, but instead merely for the sake of the (sensible) pleasure of
following rules, and is accompanied by a greater or lesser want of judge-
ment, it is roughly the same thing that is called pedantry. Prof. KRUG
(L., § 184, note; Aesth., §62, note 2) describes a pedant as one who "es-
timates the value and importance of things according to a conventional
standard, in itself quite arbitrary, to which he has become accustomed."
But in his Dictionary he defines pedantry as the flaw of "setting a high
importance on trivialities when communicating with others (?)." It seems
to me that this first definition sounds roughly like a definition of the con-
cept of a mistaken adherence to tradition, while the second sounds like
a definition of persnicketiness. In my view, a pedant does not have in-
correct ideas about the value and importance of things; rather, he merely
overestimates the importance of certain rules of procedure. That these
rules must be conventional does not seem to me to belong to the essence
of pedantry. Would we not call someone a pedant who gets caught up
in rules of his own devising, impeding his own activity and rendering
himself incompetent? 390
259

PART II
Particular Rules
§.349."
I. Discovering suitable problems
When, in §325, I claimed that it is always advantageous to have a specific
problem in mind when reflecting, I tacitly assumed that the problem was
a suitable one. Now the question of what sorts of problems we should set
for our reflection is itself a useful problem for our reflection. And since it
is anything but easy to answer this question, this seems the right place for
a little instruction on how to look for problems. It is obvious, however,
that a problem is all the more suitable, the more we (a) may expect in
advance that we will really find the truth we seek and (b) the greater the
promised benefit of recognising this as yet unknown truth. For though
it cannot be denied that we sometimes make important discoveries by
chance when occupied with questions that seem utterly futile, this occurs
very infrequently and rational people must guide themselves by what is
most probable. Supposing that the degree of probability that we will ac-
tually discover the truth we set out to find in our problem is = p and the
expected utility of the recognition of this truth is U, the motive that
391 could lead us to attempt to solve this problem would have a magnitude of
p. U. This quantity vanishes if either U or p does. Thus we should set
aside problems when we can see that the truth in question, no matter how
sure we might be that it would not escape us, would be almost useless,
and also when it is extremely improbable that we shall discover a truth,
no matter how important knowledge of it might be. But given that the
expected usefulness of knowledge as well as the conjectured probability
of succeeding in an inquiry can change from one moment to the next, it is
obvious that one and the same problem may be rightly dismissed at one
time and just as rightly taken up at another. Recognising a truth may be
useful in several different ways. Some truths are principally necessary
for us because they lead us to a recognition of our duties. Among the
truths that belong here are the general moral truths as well as the truths
concerning our present circumstances, from which we gather what our
duties are at the present moment. Other truths serve to provide us with
the desire and power to fulfil our duties. Of this kind are teachings con-
cerning God, the immortality of our souls, the existence and content of
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Particular Rules
a divine revelation of which we have learned. Other truths aim at the
improvement of our earthly condition, teaching us of means to free the
human race from this or that affliction, and making our stay on earth
more pleasant. Still other truths promise no immediate use, but lead us
to hope that they might be applied in the future, or else are valuable for
providing us with exercise in thinking. Certain truths are useful for our-
selves alone, others for thousands of people; some are unknown only to
us, others generally unknown, etc. It should not be thought that the order 392
in which these different kinds of truths are here enumerated is the order in
which we should make them the object of our reflection. It is not the kind
of usefulness, but rather the magnitude that matters, and even work that
is quite necessary in itself can be set aside with good conscience if this
postponement does not create any disadvantage and there is in the mean-
time something for us to do that could not be done as profitably later, or
which would make us better able to carry out the former. This much is
beyond doubt: we must occupy ourselves most often with the question
of what our duties are. Everything we do should be accompanied by a
distinct or obscure consciousness that it is right. And special reflection is
often, though not always, required to produce this awareness. Someone
who is unaccustomed to daily thinking about his duties, asking himself
whether he has any erroneous beliefs concerning his duties, whether any
of the changes in his circumstances has brought about changes in his obli-
gations, will not remain free from error in an area where mistakes have
the most harmful and shameful consequences, no matter how much other
knowledge he may have. Sometimes it is a matter of considering a ques-
tion which, regardless of how important it may be, need not be decided
on the spot, since nothing need change in our present behaviour no mat-
ter how the decision turns out. Sometimes the nature of the question is
such that we could not possibly deal with it in one go, perhaps because
years of inquiry would be required. Sometimes it cannot be decided until
we are older, or have acquired skill in thinking, previous knowledge and
experience we now lack. In all these cases, no one will blame us if we 393
turn to other, less important matters from time to time, even though we
aren't yet completely clear on the answer to our question. One gathers
from this, in particular, how people who have an exceptional talent, or
are young, or find themselves in circumstances where they can do little
that is useful, may be justified in devoting a considerable part of their
time to inquiries that promise little immediate benefit apart from that of
providing exercise in thinking. But no matter how unpracticed someone's
261
 THE ART OF DISCOVERY§. 349.
judgement may be, and no matter how little previous knowledge he may
posses~, there are still an infinite number of useful truths which he may
learn either through pure reflection, or else reflection combined with eas-
ily performed perceptions, provided only that he sets himself the problem
of discovering them and directs his attention towards them. Thus in order
to put ourselves in a position to choose suitable problems, nothing is more
necessary than to ensure that many questions and problems can occur to
us. In order to accomplish this, that is, to direct our attention towards all
sorts of useful questions when we set out to reflect, and merely to recall
useful problems, specially made books might be of good service. If no
such external aids to recollection are available, nothing remains but to
consult the ideas and knowledge we already have in order to arrive at all
sorts of concepts and knowledge we still lack.
1) In the first place, every individual idea we consider may provide
the occasion for a variety of quite useful discoveries when we ask the
following questions and attempt to answer those which promise to be
394 of greatest benefit: (a) whether the idea is simple or complex, and if
complex, what its parts are; (b) whether it belongs to the class of redun-
dant ideas, and thus might be simplified without alterinab its extension·'
(c) whether an object does or indeed can correspond to it; (cl) whether
it has only one object or several; (e) which ideas have a wider, which a
narrower extension; (f) which ideas are equivalent to it; (g) which ideas
stand to it in a relation of exclusion, either as contrary or contradictory,
or in a relation of overlapping, or coordination, etc.
2) If the idea we consider appears to be one that applies to an actual
object, we may ask: (a) whether a thing of this kind is even possible;
(b) whether there is one in actuality; (c) whether it exists necessarily;
(d) which attributes belong to it necessarily; (e) which contingently; and
(f) which attributes it might have.
3) If our idea concerns a way of acting, we may investigate: (a) the
circumstances under which the action is possible or impossible; (b) the
circumstances under which it is morally good or evil; (c) the motives that
might determine us to perform it, etc.
4) If we have several ideas before us: (a) we can ask about their
relations to one another, both with respect to content and to extension;
(b) provided that the ideas are objectual, we may ask about an idea that
englobes them all, i.e., a similarity between all the objects falling under
these ideas. (c) We can ask about an attribute which distinguishes the
objects comprehended under these ideas from certain other ideas, or all
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Particular Rules
other ideas. (d) We may ask about an idea that englobes more objects
than these; (e) one which englobes fewer objects; or (f) one which en- 395
alobes /'Jrecisely these objects. One may ask (g) for an idea that enalobes
b b
1110 re objects than these ideas but fewer than some other given multitude
of objects; or (h) for an idea that englobes both more and less than the
given multitude of objects; or (i) for several ideas which together englobe
the given multitude of objects, etc. Finally, (k) we may combine the
given ideas in complete propositions and undertake similar inquiries with
respect to the latter.
5) If we have several mutually exclusive ideas A,B,C, ... , i.e., if we
consider several distinct individual things or kinds of things, we may ask:
(a) in what respects do these things agree; (b) in what respects do they
differ; (c) is there a thing or kind of things that is intermediate between
them, i.e., one that is closer to A than B and closer to B than A, etc.?
6) If we consider an individual proposition, we may: (a) ask about
its constituents; (b) determine the logical species to which it belongs,
whether, e.g., it is analytic or synthetic; (c) investigate its truth or falsity;
(d) alter some of its parts and then undertake the above investigations with
respect to the new propositions.
7) If we have several propositions before us, we may ask about their
relations, e.g., whether they are compatible, whether there are relations
of deducibility or exclusion between them, etc.
8) If a proposition under consideration appears to be true, we may
ask: (a) for a proof of its truth; (b) for the degree of confidence with
which we may accept it; (c) about reasons that appear to speak against it 396
and how they may be refuted; (cl) whether it has a ground of its truth, and
if so, what that ground is; (e) what consequences flow from this truth;
whether its discovery brings about changes in our duties, or could be
used to improve the condition of ourselves or others; (f) we may also
ask whether the attribute p that the proposition S ascribes also belongs to
objects not comprehended under the proposition S, i.e., whether Smay be
generalised; similarly, (g) if there are objects that lack this attribute, and
if so, which ones?
9) If the truth we have before us states that some actual object or
alteration exists, we may ask: (a) about its cause; (b) whether this cause
consists in the activity of a rational being, and in this case, what aim the
being's action might have had. We can also ask (c) about the effects of
this object, and (cl) the ends towards which it might be applied as a means.
263
 THE ART OF DISCOVERY§. 350.
10) If we have several truths of the forms "A has p", "B has p", "C has
p", etc., and thus know of several individual objects or entire genera of
objects that all have the attribute p, we may ask: (a) whether these objects
have other common attributes and (b) how they differ in other respects.
11) If we have a couple of truths of the forms "A has p" and "B does
not have p", and thus know of two individual objects or genera which
differ in a certain attribute, we may ask: (a) about any further differences
between them; (b) about other respects in which they agree.
Note. I must leave the question of whether the thought of a book
as mentioned above is worth pursuing for others to decide. Supposing,
however, that people do not find it suitable to have all fields of human
397 knowledge covered in one and the same book, since in that case each
would have to search for the questions that are useful for him within a
multitude of others, it would in no way follow that catalogues of ques-
tions drawn from a single science or questions that might be answered
by a given class of people in certain circumstances would be worthless.
Indeed, people have already hit upon this idea, writing questions, e.g.,
for travellers and the like. BACON' s well-known desiderata, however,
were supposed to encompass all the sciences, and would thus represent a
catalogue of the first sort.
§.350.*
II. Analysing an idea given to our consciousness
It is my hope that the goal of this part (namely, to provide instruction on
the various kinds of reflection) will best be reached by working through
the catalogue of problems with which reflection aimed at the discovery
of truth may deal, emphasising those that require special instruction and
arise in more than one science. Now one problem that arises in almost
every science is that of analysing an idea given to our consciousness, i.e.,
the demand that we correctly determine whether an idea of which we are
cmTently conscious is simple or complex and, in the latter case, what parts
it has and how these are combined. At first glance it might be thought an
easy matter to answer a question of this sort, since it seems that everyone
who possesses an idea must know whether or not it is simple and, if not,
what parts it has and how they are combined. We know from experience,
however, that this is one of the hardest problems of all. For because most
398 of our ideas are not raised to clarity or, what amounts to the same, are not
intuited by us, it often occurs that the patis of a given idea are not intuited,
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Particular Rules
even when we do intuit the whole. But if we do not individually intuit the
parts of a given idea, it is understandable why we are unable to form the
judgement that these parts occur in that idea. Thus, from the mere fact
that we are unable to indicate on the spot the parts of which a given idea is
composed, we are in no way justified in inferring that it has no parts and
is thus simple. In order to judge even somewhat reliably in such cases,
we must repeatedly attempt to intuit the idea whose content we wish to
determine, and to prolong this intuition as long as possible. For the longer
the intuition lasts, the more we may hope to perceive the individual parts
which are combined to form the idea, especially if our attention is focused
precisely on discovering these parts, i.e., we consider the idea with the
intention of noticing its parts. Only if it should happen that, despite all
our efforts in repeated trials of this procedure, we are unable to perceive
anything that may be considered a part of the idea would we be permitted
to surmise, with a very small degree of probability, that the idea actually
has no parts and instead belongs to the class of simple ideas. It can also
happen that while intuiting an idea for a long time we see other ideas that
are not actually its parts, but occur at the same time, belonging perhaps to
the associated image, which may lead us to mistakenly take them for parts
of the idea. In order to avoid such errors, we must investigate whether the
ideas which appear to be parts of a given idea can really be combined
in the way they must in order to form a single idea, namely, the one in 399
question. Obviously, there must be several such ideas, and among them
certain connecting concepts, e.g., the idea of having, the idea "which" and
the like. If this is not the case, then it is obvious that these ideas cannot be
said to be parts of the given idea, which cannot yet be declared complex.
Thus, for example, after intuiting the idea "red" for a long time, the ideas
"rose" or "blood" may also occur to us. But since we find that these ideas
are not and cannot (without the help of other ideas) be combined in the
way required to produce a single idea, we may not claim them to be parts
of the idea "red'', but only ideas associated with it. If, on the contrary,
we are in a position to combine these ideas, or certain others m,n,o, ...
regardless of how we may have come by them, into a single idea M where
it is not immediately obvious that M is different from the idea A we seek
to define, further examination will be aimed principally at determining
whether M and A can be interchanged in every case where one of them
is combined with other ideas to form new ideas and entire propositions
without any difference coming to light. If we notice no such difference,
we may conclude that the idea M, i.e., the idea we form by combining
265
 THE ART OF DISCOVERY§. 350.
m,n.o, ... is nothing other than the idea A resolved into its parts, and
we will have succeeded in indicating the pa1is of A and the way they are
combined. Thus we may believe that the idea of the word "nothing" is
exactly the same as that expressed by the words "not something", since
the latter may be substituted for the former in any proposition without
400 altering the sense.
If the idea A that we are supposed to define belongs to the class of
those that have objects, then clearly the idea M which we form by com-
bining m, n, o, ... could not be the same as A if there were even one object
which stood under one of the two without standing under the other. Thus
if it is possible for us to procure other ideas X ,X' ,X", ... of some of the
objects standing either under A or M, then one way of testing the correct-
ness of our definition would be to investigate whether each of the objects
mentioned stands under both A and M, i.e., whether all of the proposi-
tions "X is A" and "X is M", "X' is A" and "X' is M", "X" is A" and
"X" is M", ... , and among them the propositions "X is A" and "A is
X", are acceptable. Thus I test whether the ideas stimulated in me by the
expressions "polygon" and "a plane figure bounded by straight lines" be-
long to the same objective idea by investigating whether every polygon is
a plane figure bounded by straight lines, and whether every plane figure
bounded by straight lines is a polygon. If we discover that every object
standing under A also stands under M, but that the converse does not hold,
the idea M is not the same as A, but rather is a wider idea. It may thus
be surmised that we have not discovered all of the parts m, n, o, p, ... of
which A is composed, or at least that we have not combined them in the
appropriate way. Thus we must focus our attention again on A, and look
to see whether we may perceive some parts q, r, s, ... we did not notice
before, parts which may be combined with the aforementioned ideas to
produce an idea that stands up under examination. If we do not notice
any, we must try to see whether a different way of combining the parts
m,n,o,p, ... might produce an idea of natTower extension. If, on the
401 contrary, it turns out that while every M is A, not every A is an M, then
Mis too narrow, and we may conclude either that we have mistakenly
taken some of m,n,o,p, ... for parts of A, or at least have not combined
these correctly. Thus we must see whether permuting the parts or omit-
ting some of them can produce an idea with the the same extension as
A. From this it is obvious what we must do if it turns out that neither
all M stand under A nor all A under M. As both of the aforementioned
flaws are combined in this case, we must combine two methods of emen-
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Particular Rules
dation, omitting certain parts of M and incorporating some new ones. If
we finally succeed in producing an idea M that stands up to the above
kind of scrutiny, it admittedly does not follow that A and M are identical,
since two ideas that are merely interchangeable would also have this at-
tribute. But if we have formed M by combining the ideas m,n,o,p, ...
which seemed to us to be contained in A, then it is not likely that Mand A
will be different if they have the same extension-provided, that is, that
the idea A is not redundant ( §69), in which case it could certainly occur
that we have put M together using fewer parts than are actually thought
in A even though the two have the same extension. Only a frequent and
attentive consideration of the idea A can protect against this.
In my opinion, we may only hold ourselves to be justified in claim-
ing that a concept M is simple if we have failed in repeated attempts to
form a concept [A, B, C, ... J from other concepts A,B,C, . .. (which
obviously may not include M itself) that is equivalent to M, i.e., repre-
sents exactly the same objects. For it seems to me that all simple ideas
have this in common: for none of them is there an equivalent idea which 402
does not contain the idea as one of its parts. This seems to follow from
the following considerations. If the concept M is simple, then there must
be, I believe, one or several truths of the form "M has p" which may be
considered independent basic truths. But if Mand [A,B,C, ... ] are
interchangeable ideas, then for every truth of the form "M has p" there
will be an equivalent one of the form "[A,B,C, . .. ] hasp''. Thus if the
former is a basic truth, the latter must be as well. But propositions of the
latter sort do not look like independent truths; rather, whether they are
true or false seems to depend on the nature of the individual constituents
A,B,C, ... , and thus on certain truths of the form "A has a", "B has~",
"Chas y", etc. Thus we obtain a contradiction if we assume that a simple
idea is equivalent to another idea. Be that as it may, this much at least
may be claimed: the claim that an idea M is simple, even though there is
a concept [A,B,C, ... ] equivalent to it, will be viewed with the greatest
suspicion. For, provided that we are reasonably sure that M is not a part
of A,B,C, ... , how would we make sure that Mand [A,B,C, ... ] are
really different ideas? For given all that has been said on this topic, the
mere fact that we are not aware of any constituents such as A, B, C, ...
when we think M is a reason with little or no weight. Thus, for example,
even though many scholars hold the concept of possibility (or of what
can be) to be simple, if it can be shown that the definition given in § 182
produces a concept with the same extension, then no one can dispute that
267
 THE ART OF DISCOVERY §. 351.
possibility is a complex concept and my definition is correct. For hope-
403 fully no one will deny that none of the concepts used in that definition
(namely, actuality, negation, purely conceptual truth, etc.) as defined in
earlier sections, contains the concept of possibility.
§.351.
Mistakes in carrying out this task
Given that the definition of an idea is a difficult problem which is some-
times very important, it will not be superfluous to warn against the most
common mistakes that can be made in carrying out this task. It happens
all too often that (a) we declare concepts to be simple when they are in
fact complex merely because we learned them in our earliest childhood or
else in circumstances which did not permit us to notice their constituents.
Thus great philosophers have declared concepts such as those of exten-
sion, temporal sequence, movement, and unity as well as the ideas red,
blue, sweet, etc., to be simple, even though it is probable (at least to me)
that they are all complex. (b) But it can also happen that we claim an
idea to be complex when it is in fact simple. This occurs most often be-
cause the idea to be defined belongs to the class of object-ideas and we
notice that it stands under many other higher ideas, which makes it look
like the idea contains all these higher ideas as parts. Thus many have
thought that the concept of actuality must be compounded from the idea
of possibility, since everything actual is possible. (c) Often the idea M
that we form by combining the ideas m,n,o, ... is wider than the idea
to be defined A, especially when we think of other constituents without
being distinctly aware of them, and thus do not explicitly cite them. Thus
404 the geometers who defined a circle as a line, all the points of which are
equidistant from a given point, must have tacitly and unwittingly thought
that all these points lay in one and the same plane. (d) Again, it often hap-
pens that the idea M which is produced from the given parts is narrower
than the idea A which is to be defined, a mistake to which we are espe-
cially prone if we think only of some of the cases in which A can be used.
We have an example in the well-known definition of a straight line as one
which is determined by the situation of its two end points, where the case
of lines that are infinite in one or both directions has been overlooked.
(e) Sometimes the ideas M and A stand in the relation of overlapping,
each applying to some objects that the other does not. One usually says
in this case that our definition is both too wide and too narmw. The def-
inition of a tangent as a straight line that has only one point in common
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Particular Rules
with a given curve is of this sort, for this definition would cover many
lines that we do not call tangents, and would also not cover many lines
we do call tangents. (f) The idea M may well have the same extension as
A, but not the same content, and thus be only equivalent to A. This occurs
with the definition of a point as the limit of a line, since the concept of a
limit is not contained in that of a point. (g) If we consider the way that we
may come to misunderstand the idea to be defined A, the following case
is noteworthy: we misunderstand A merely because we contemplated not
A alone, but rather one or more other ideas A',A", ... as well, without
recognising that these differed from A, and then mistakenly took parts of
A',A", ... for parts of A itself. We may quite appropriately say that such
definitions miss the mark. Of this sort, it seems to me, is the definition
of Goel as a being that has the ground of its being not in something exter- 405
nal but rather in itself. For that God has no ground of his being is quite
correct, and drawn from the consideration of the concept of God. But it
seems incorrect to say that Goel has the ground of his own being within
himself. This thought seems to have arisen because people consider an-
other concept, namely, that of a finite being, and it lies in the concept of
a finite being that it must have a ground.
§.352.
III. Whether a given idea is real or imaginary,
and whether it has an object
Not only in scientific inquiries but also in everyday life, when we use an
idea, we desire to know first of all whether an object can correspond to
it, and whether an object in fact corresponds to it. It is obvious that in
order to decide the matter, we must have formed the idea in question and
raised it to clarity. For if this were not the case, how could we make a
judgement concerning it? To this end it is, though not indispensable, at
least to be recommended that we first inform ourselves whether the idea
in question is simple or, if complex, what parts it has, i.e., to raise it to
distinctness. For knowledge of the parts of the idea can make it much
easier to determine whether an object can correspond to it or not. If we
discover that it has no parts and belongs to the class of simple ideas, it
would already be decided that it is a real idea (§70); and whether or not
it is objectual will result directly from its nature. If, however, the idea in
question is complex, and of the form [Something]( a + b + c + d + ·· ·),
then we first try to see whether the attributes a,b,c,d, ... that are united 406
269
 THE ART OF DISCOVERY§. 353.
here conflict with one another, i.e., whether any of the propositions No A
is B, No A is C, No B is C, etc., can be proven from purely conceptual
truths. If this is the case, it is decided that the idea is imagincuy (§70). If
not, then it is real. But this does not yet decide the question of whether
the idea is objectual, even in cases where the idea has the form of an
idea that applies to objects, e.g., the form of a concrete idea (§60). In
order to determine this, we must also decide whether the attributes that
the idea would ascribe to its object presuppose actual existence or not.
If not, the idea is to be declared objectual. For if its object need not
be something existing, it is obvious that such an object could only be
lacking if the assumption that there were such an object contradicted a
purely conceptual truth. But if the idea in question is of the sort that
requires the actual existence of its object, nothing remains but to attempt
to see whether the existence of such an object can be proved from purely
conceptual truths or, this failing, from experience.
§.353.
IV. Whether a given object-idea has only one or several objects
If it is often difficult to determine whether or not an idea A has an ob-
ject, it is often even more difficult to say whether there is only one such
object or several, i.e., whether the idea before us is a singular idea or a
general concept (§68). If we manage to find a pair of ideas of the forms
[A]b and [A]non b, and have assured ourselves (following the instruction
of the previous section) that they are both objectual, then we would ad-
407 mittedly have shown that the given idea A encompasses several objects.
For whatever stands under [A] b certainly does not stand under [A]non b,
yet both stand under A. In order to find ideas such as [A]b and [A]non b
we must try to bring to mind and examine all the attributes that we do not
know in advance to belong either to all A or to no A (i.e., attributes b such
that we do not know in advance that "All A have b" or "No A has b" is
true). We easily convince ourselves, for example, that the idea "triangle"
is a general concept, since we discover that the idea of a triangle that is
equilateral as well as the idea of a triangle that is not are objectual. If,
on the contrary, we can discover no attribute of this sort, then we may
conclude with more or less probability, though not with certainty, that A
is a singular idea. Sometimes, however, for instance when the idea is of
the form "The sum of all B", it already lies within the form of the idea
that it can only have one object provided it has any at all, since there can
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be only one sum of all the B. But even if the idea A is not of this form,
it can usually be decided easily enough whether it has only one or more
than one object, provided that A's objects do not have actual existence.
Here it is a question of whether closer consideration reveals that the de-
terminations contained in the idea suffice to determine every attribute of
its object. If so, then there is only one object; if not, several. Thus with
the concept "an even number which lies between 4 and 8'', it is obvious
that no other object than the number 6 meets this condition, and hence
that the idea is singular. It is far more difficult to determine whether the 408
idea has an object when the given idea is a pure concept whose objects (if
it had any) would have to be actual. Apart from the concepts mentioned
above, where it lies in their form that they cannot have several objects,
I can only claim with confidence that the concept of God and concepts
equivalent to it have only one object. With ideas of this kind, only ex-
perience can tell us whether or not an object corresponds to them. But
merely from the fact that experience has so far shown us no such objects,
or only one, we are in no way justified in concluding that there are none
or only one; rather, it is probable that if we have found one, there are in
fact several of this kind.
§.354.
V. Whether an idea is redundant; purification of redundant ideas
One of the virtues of a rigorously scientific presentation, as shall be shown
later, is that it avoids all redundancy (§69) in the concepts and ideas it em-
ploys. Thus the problem of determining whether a given idea is redundant
arises quite frequently, as does that of finding an idea equivalent to a re-
dundant one. It is obvious that if we are to solve such problems we must
first know the idea and all of its parts, and have made all of these distinct.
For how could we judge whether an idea has more parts than it needs if
we do not know what these parts are? But when we do know the parts
of which an idea is composed, the next thing to determine is whether the
idea belongs to the class of objectual or to the class of objectless ideas.
1) In the former case, if the idea is to avoid the flaw of redundancy,
one may not omit even a single one of its constituents without it ceasing 409
to have the same extension it did before. Thus we must inquire whether
it survives this test, that is, we must investigate (for the parts where the
answer is not obvious in advance) whether any part can be removed and
still leave an idea with the same extension. If none can, then the idea
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 THE ART OF DISCOVERY§. 355.
is free from redundancy as it stands. Otherwise, it is redundant, and we
must remove constituents from its content until we obtain an idea that sur-
vives the test we just described. Now there are two ways of investigating
whether an idea Y which we obtained from a given idea X by omitting
some of its parts has the same extension. First, we may decide as we do
in general whether a pair of ideas X and Y are equivalent, namely, by ask-
ing whether the propositions "Every X is Y" and "Every Y is X" obtain.
In the special case where Y is composed of parts of X, however, there
is a quicker way to decide the matter. For if we suppose that the given
idea X is of the form [Something]( a+ b + c + d + · ··) and the idea Y is
obtained from X simply by omitting the parts c + d, then the equivalence
of the ideas X and Y depends merely on whether or not a proposition of
the form "Every [Something](a + b + · ··) has (c + d)" is demonstrable.
Thus, for example, it can be shown that the concept of "a being, that has
powers" is redundant, since it can be shown that the proposition "every
being has powers" holds.
2) If, finally, the given idea is objectless, it is called redundant if every
objectual idea we can form by altering some of its parts is redundant.
Thus we must first attempt to form such object-ideas from the given idea,
4 IO and then see whether these are redundant, and if so, which constituents
are the ground of the redundancy of the new ideas we obtain.
§.355.
VI. Investigating the relation between the extensions of given ideas
The problems mentioned so far are the most imp01tant ones concerning
individual ideas. If we have several ideas, however, one may also ask
about the relations between them. The knowledge of the relations be-
tween ideas with respect to their content (e.g., whether they have any
parts in common) is immediately obtained once one has specified the na-
ture of the ideas following the instructions given for the first problem.
Thus here we shall deal only with the consideration of relations between
ideas with respect to their extensions, supposing that they are objectual.
When it comes to comparing of the extensions of ideas that have no ob-
jects in common, we are only rarely able to say whether their widths are
the same or which of the two is greater. In cases where the number of
objects represented by each individual idea is finite and known to us, the
answer follows of itself.
1) Thus the first question that arises when we compare one or sev-
eral ideas A, B, C, ... with one or several others M, N, 0, ... with regard
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to their extensions is whether these ideas have any objects in common,
i.e., whether they are concordant (§94). If the idea A is to have an ob-
ject in common with another idea M, the idea [Something] (a+ m) must
have objectuality, and conversely. Thus if we only wish to compare two 41 l
ideas, A and M, we need only, following the instructions of §352, inves-
tigate whether the idea [Something] (a + m) is objectual. It is obvious
how one must proceed if we are comparing several ideas A, M, R, ... and
asking whether there is an object comprehended by all of them. Here
we must investigate whether [Something](a + m + r + · ··) is an objec-
tual idea. But if we ask whether there is a relation of concordance be-
tween the several ideas A, B, C, . . . on the one hand and M, N, 0, . . .
on the other, this amounts to asking whether there is an object standing
under one of A, B, C, ... and under one of M, N, 0, .... We will answer
in the affirmative or negative depending upon whether among the many
ideas [Something] (a + m), [Something]( b + m), ... that can be formed
by combining each of A,B,C, ... with each of M,N, 0, ... there is an
objectual idea. If, finally, we ask whether several groups of ideas A, B,
C, . . . ; M, N, 0, . . . ; R, S, T, ... are concordant, this amounts to
asking whether there is an object that stands under one of A, B, C, ... ,
under one of M,N,O, ... and under one of R,S,T, .... Thus we must
investigate whether there is an object-idea among the multitude of ideas
[Something](a +m + r+ · · · ), [Something](b + m + r+ ···), ... that may
be formed by combining each one of A, B, C, ... with each of M, N, 0, ...
and each of R,S, T, ....
2) If we know that a relation of concordance holds between given
ideas, i.e., they have at least one object in common, the further ques-
tion arises whether they stand in the relation of equivalence (§96), i.e.,
whether they have all their objects in common. Now if we are investi- 412
gating whether an individual idea A is equivalent to another M, it comes
clown to whether either of the ideas [A]non m or [M]non a has objectual-
ity, or (what amounts to the same) whether the two propositions "Every
A is M" and "Every M is A" hold. From this one can see what must
be done if more than two ideas are involved. But if we are speaking of
entire groups of ideas, the claim that these groups are equivalent means
that every object comprehended by one of these groups (i.e., represented
by one of the ideas belonging to this group) is comprehended under the
other groups as well. This will occur when none of the following ideas
is objectual: [A](non m +non n + · ·· ), [B](non m +non n + · · · ), ... ,
[M](non a+ non b + ··· ), [N](non a+ non b + ···), .... Thus we must
273
 THE ART OF DISCOVERY§. 355.
see whether in fact all these ideas are objectless; or, what amounts to the
same, whether the following propositions hold: No A is a [Something]
(non m +non fl+···), No Bis a [Something]( non m +non fl+···), ... ,
No Mis a [Something] (non a+ non b + · · · ) , No N is a [Something] (non a+
non b+ · · · ), ....
3) Another relation between concordant ideas is that of subordination
(§97). Whether one individual idea A is subordinate to another Mis eas-
ily decided if we investigate whether the two following propositions are
true: Every A is an M and not every M is an A-or, instead of the latter,
that the idea of an [M]non a has objectuality. But if it is asked whether
the collection of ideas A,B,C, . .. is subordinate to the collection M,N,
0, ... , we wish to know whether every object that stands under one
of A,B,C,D, ... also stands under one of M,N, 0, ... , and in ad-
413 dition that there are objects that stand under one of M,N, 0, ... but
do not stand under any of A, B, C, . . . . This will be the case if each
of the ideas [A](non m +non n + · · · ), [B](non m +non n + · · · ), ... is
objectless and also at least one of the ideas [M](non a+ non b + · · · ),
[NJ (non a+ non b + · · ·) has objectuality. Thus we must direct our in-
quiry towards these ideas.
4) Finally, concordant ideas may stand in a relation of overlapping
(§98). We say that individual ideas A and M stand in this relation if
there are objects standing under both A and M, but also some that stand
under A but not M, and others that stand under M but not A. Thus we
must investigate whether each of the three ideas [Something]( a + m),
[Something]( a+ non m), [Something]( non a+ m) has objectuality. If one
group of ideas A, B, C, ... is to be compared to another M, N, 0, ... to see
whether they are overlapping, then there must be, in addition to the ob-
jects standing under A,B,C, ... and simultaneously under M,N,O, ... ,
also some that stand under one of A, B, C, ... but not under any of M, N,
0, ... as well as some that stand under one of M,N, 0, ... but not
under any of A,B,C, ... Thus among the ideas [Something](a + m),
[Something]( a+ n), ... , [Something]( b + m), [Something]( b + n), ... ,
as among the ideas [Something](a+non m+ non n + · · · ), [Something](b+
non m +non n + · · · ), etc., and also among the ideas [Something](m +
non a+ non b + · · · ), [Something](n +non a+ non b + · · · ), there must
be at least one that is objectual. Other cases of overlapping, which occur
less often, are dealt with similarly.
5) If a pair of ideas A, M does not stand in a relation of concordance,
414 then, provided that they are objectual, they stand in a relation of exclusion
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Partirnlar Rules
(§ 103). We recognise the presence of this case by discovering that the
idea [Something] (a+ m) is objectless, or, what amounts to the same, that
one of the two propositions "No A is M" or "No M is A" holds. But if
several ideas A, M, R, ... are to stand in a relation of exclusion, we must
show that all of the following ideas are objectless: [Something] (a + m),
[Something]( a+ r), [Something](m + r), ... ; or we must show that the
following propositions are true: No A is M, No A is R, No Mis R, ....
If entire groups of ideas A, B, C, ... ; M, N, 0, ... ; R, S, T, ... stand
in a relation of exclusion, then it must be the case that no object standing
under one of these groups stands under any of the others, i.e., that there
is a relation of exclusion between the groups of ideas A, M, R, ... ; A, M,
S, ... ; A, N, R, ... ; A, N, S, ... ; B, M, R, ... ; B, M, S, ... ; B, N, R, ... ;
B, N, S, ... , etc.
6) In order to determine that a pair of ideas A, M or two groups of
ideas A,B,C, ... and M,N,O, ... stand in a relation of contradiction
(§ 103), we need to investigate whether the idea " non A" is equivalent
to M or whether [Something] (na + nb + nc + · · ·) is equivalent to M, N,
0, ....
7) If, finally, the collection of ideas A,B,C, ... is supposed to ex-
haust the extension of another idea M, then A,B,C, ... must be mutu-
ally exclusive and also collectively equivalent to M. To investigate this
question, the methods of nos. 2 and 5 must be applied simultaneously,
i.e., we must show that the idea [M] (non a +non b + · · ·) as well as the
ideas [Something]( a+ b ), [Something](a + c ), [Something](b + c ), etc.,
are objectless. 415
§.356.
VII. Discovering an idea that contains a similarity between given objects
A problem that recurs frequently in all reflection is that of discovering
the respects in which certain objects X,Y,Z, ... are similar to one an-
other. But since every similarity is simply an attribute that the objects
X, Y, Z, ... have in common, one soon realises that in order to discover
a similarity between these objects we must already be acquainted with
them to some extent and thus have some ideas that apply to them more
specifically. For if we had no knowledge at all of these objects except,
say, knowing that they are things, it is obvious that we could indicate
no other similarity than that they are things, and this is hardly ever of
any use. Yet it is not strictly necessary for us to have ideas that apply
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 THE ART OF DISCOVERY§. 356. Particular Rules

exclusively to these objects, even though this can be useful. For if the it will be easiest to decide whether they have the attribute. If the degree of
ideas A, B, C, ... through which the objects X, Y, Z, ... are given to us similarity between the objects X, Y, Z, ... that may be claimed by virtue
have such a wide extension that together they encompass other objects of the ideas A, B, C, ... is quite unequal, and if it is known that some of
R. S . ... as well, the similarities that we may discover by means of these them, e.g., those represented by A and C, are the least similar, we will do
ideas will obviously be those holding between X, Y, Z, ... and R, S, .... well to compare these first before turning to others. For since these have
But if the ideas through which we know X, Y, Z, ... are so narrow that the smallest number of common attributes, we spare ourselves many in-
together they encompass only these objects, then it is possible that we quiries if we only see whether the attributes that they have in common are
will discover similarities that hold between X, Y,Z, ... alone. No matter shared by the other objects.
what kinds of ideas we may have of X, Y, Z, ... , the search for similar-
ities will essentially consist in trying to learn as many attributes of these §.357.
objects as we can by means of the ideas A, B, C, ... , and then seeing how
VIII. Discovering an idea that furnishes a difference
416 many and which of these attributes are common to X, Y,Z, . ... Every at-
between given objects
tribute a for which we can demonstrate the propositions "Every A has a",
"Every B has a", "Every C has a", etc., will be a similarity we have dis-
The problem of discovering differences occurs just as frequently as that of
covered between the objects X, Y, Z, .... Sometimes it will happen that
discovering similarities. Now a difference between objects U, V,
the given ideas already point to some common attributes, when they are
W, ... on the one hand and X, Y, Z, ... on the other is simply an at-
of the forms: [Something](a+b+c+ · · · ), [Something](a+b+d + · · · ),
tribute that belongs to one of these classes but not to the other. From this
[Something](a + g + h + ... ), etc., where the mere comparison of their
it is clear that in order to discover a difference between given objects we
constituents makes it clear that their objects have the attribute a in com-
must first have certain ideas of them. But these need not be ideas that
mon. But even where this is not the case, and the ideas of the objects to
apply exclusively to these objects. For even if we suppose that the ideas 418
be compared do not have a single constituent in common, it cannot be im-
A,B,C, ... , through which the objects U, V, W, ... are known to us, or
mediately concluded that the objects themselves bear no similarity to one
the ideas M,N, 0, ... , through which we know X, Y,Z, ... , encom-
another. For, according to §64, every object has infinitely many attributes
pass other objects in addition to these, any difference that we can gather
that an idea which applies to it, even exclusively, need not mention.
through the consideration of these ideas, i.e., every attribute that belongs
Since, according to the law mentioned in §284, ideas of objects that
to all of A, B, C, ... but to none of M, N, 0, ... will nevertheless represent
are quite similar are easily associated with one another, it can happen that
a genuine difference between the objects U, V, W, ... and X. Y, Z, ....
certain particularly obvious similarities between objects we are compar-
For an attribute that belongs to all of A, B, C, ... also belongs to all of
ing occur to us without any reflection. The less obvious ones may be
U. V, W, ... , while an attribute that belongs to none of M,N, 0, ... also
discovered in the way described above. Our task will be rendered eas-
b~longs to none of X, Y, Z, .... Thus an attribute that belongs to all of
ier if we do not direct our attention exclusively for too long to only one
A,B,C, ... and to none of M,N, 0, ... also belongs to all of U, V, W, ...
class of the objects we are comparing, but instead switch from the objects
and to none of X, Y, Z, ... , and is thus an actual difference between
contained under A to those contained under B, and if we do not linger
them. What is necessary is that the ideas A, B, C, ... and M, N, 0, ... ,
on attributes when it can be known in advance that they are not common
through which, respectively, we know the objects U, V, W, ... and X, Y,
to all the objects. Nor is the sequence in which we consider the objects
Z, ... , be mutually exclusive, i.e., that there be no object that stands both
417 a matter of indifference. It is best to begin with the class of objects we
under A,B,C, ... and under M, N, 0, .... Otherwise, as long as we
know best, i.e., those of which we may hope to learn the greatest number
know of no other ideas than these, it would be impossible to discover any
of attributes with little effort. As soon as we discover an attribute belong-
difference between these objects. For, in order to indicate a difference be-
ing to this class, we immediately see whether it can be shown to belong to
tween given objects that are known to us only under the ideas A,B,C, ...
the others. And here it is best to begin with the classes where we suspect
on the one hand and M, N, 0, ... on the other, we would have to find

276 277
 THE ART OF DISCOVERY§. 357.
an attribute that belongs to all of A, B, C, ... but not to M, N, 0, ....
But if there is even one object that stands under A, B, C, ... as well as
419 M,N, O, ... , then it is obvious that no such attribute could be indicated,
since it would have to both belong and not belong to the given object. It
is also the case here that we will be able to discover more differences the
narrower the extensions of the ideas are, and that it is most advantageous
in this respect if the ideas A, B, C, ... represent the objects U, V, W, ...
exclusively and M,N, 0 . ... represent X, Y,Z, ... exclusively. For if
the ideas in question are wider, then we will only be able to discover
differences between the objects U,V,W, ... and X,Y,Z, ... that they
have in common with many other objects; and the wider the ideas, the
greater the number of these other objects. But if they have the narrowest
extension possible if they are to represent U, V, W, ... and X, Y, Z, ... ,
we may become acquainted with differences that obtain only between
these objects. One way of discovering differences between the objects
U, V, W, ... and X, Y, Z, ... through mere reflection, when these are given
through the ideas A,B,C, ... and M,N,O, ... respectively, is to attempt
to bring to light as many attributes of the objects as we can through the
given ideas, noting whether some of the attributes which belong to one
of the classes of things, e.g., to U, V, W, ... are the exact opposite of
others that belong to the things of the other class X, Y,Z, .... If we find
o
an attribute that can be affirmed of all of U, V, W, ... but must be de-
nied of all of X, Y, Z, ... , i.e., with respect to which the propositions
"Every A has o", "Every B has o", "Every Chas o", ... as well as "No
M has o", "No N has o", "No 0 has o" are demonstrable, then o is the
kind of difference we seek. Instead of proving the negative propositions
"No M has o", "No N has o", ... , we may also manage to prove that
420 the ideas [M]o, [N]o, ... are objectless. It can happen that in the ideas we
are comparing an attribute IT appears as a constituent in all of A, B, C, ...
while the denial of this attribute occurs in M, N, 0, .... In this case, a
mere glance at the given ideas shows that the attribute IT is a difference
between the objects U, V, W, ... and X, Y, Z, .... But it by no means
follows from the absence of differences lying within the ideas that no
differences can be established, if the ideas genuinely stand in a relation
of exclusion. On the contrary, if the ideas do stand in this relation, we
may infer that a real difference obtains between the objects U, V, W, .. .
and X ,Y,Z, .... For if there were no such difference, and U, V, W, .. .
were constituted just as X, Y, Z, ... are, then an idea which represented
one of them would have to fit the other as well. Admittedly, it does not
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Particular Rules
follow that we must always be in a position to perceive this difference.
This will often be difficult or indeed impossible for us, especially if we
are required to express the difference in terms of pure concepts, while
the ideas A, B, C, ... , M. N, 0, ... consist of mere intuitions or differ
only in the intuitions they contain. In order to make this work quicker
and easier, the techniques described in the previous section may be used;
only it should be noted that simply because certain attributes a, a, ... ,
taken individually, do not reveal any difference between U, V, W, ... and
X, Y, Z, ... one may not conclude that they never do so together. For if
all of these attributes belong to all of U, V, W, ... , it may still be the case
that although none of them is absent from all of M, N, 0, ... , they are
never all found together in any one of X, Y, Z, .... In this case neither a 42 l
nor a, ... would by itself represent a difference between U, V, W, ... and
X, Y, Z, ... , yet their sum (a+ a+ · · · ) would. Thus after we have run
through the attributes a, e1.., ••• that are common to the things U, V, W, .. .
and found that none is a difference between U, V, W, ... and X, Y, Z, ... ,
we must still investigate whether a combination of two or more of these
attributes would represent such a difference. To this encl, it is a good idea
when examining the individual attributes that belong to all of U, V, W, ...
to single out those that are only found in some of X, Y, Z, ... , noting at
the same time which of these objects have or lack the attributes. If this
is recorded appropriately, one may in the encl see at a glance whether it
is possible to combine some of these attributes to indicate a difference
between U,V,W, ... andX,Y,Z, ....
Note. Clearly, the problem of discovering similarities or differences
between the objects represented by the ideas A,B,C, ... and M,N, 0, ...
is completely different from the problem of discovering similarities or
differences between the ideas themselves. The latter problem also arises
frequently, and may be looked upon as a special case of the former, the
objects under comparison here being ideas. But the comparison is under-
taken in the way that has just been described. But since an idea is quite
different from its object, it should come as no surprise if the compari-
son of ideas reveals completely different similarities and differences than
those obtaining between their objects. Thus the ideas "equilateral trian-
gle" and "equiangular triangle" differ, but the objects they represent are
the same. So too the ideas "equilateral triangle" and "scalene [unequal-
sided] triangle" are similar in that both contain the idea of equilaterality, 422
while the objects they represent differ in that the attribute of equilaterality
belongs to the former but not to the latter.
279
 THE ART OF DISCOVERY§. 358.
§.358.
IX. Discovering an attribute that belongs exclusively to given objects
either with respect to a given multitude of objects or in general
In science as in daily life one often needs to find an attribute that belongs
exclusively to given objects-exclusively either with respect to a given
multitude of objects that includes them, or with respect to all objects in
general. The former is necessary when we wish to use the att~·ibute a.s an
indicator that allows us to distinguish the objects from others 111 the given
multitude, the latter when we wish to recognise them in general. Now
an attribute that belongs exclusively to the objects U, V, W, ... of a given
multitude U, V, W, ... , X, Y, Z, ... must belong to all of U, V, W, .. .
and to none of X, Y, Z, ... , and thus be a difference between U, V, W, .. .
and X,Y,Z, .... And in order to discover such a difference, we must
(according to the previous §)first have found certain ideas A,B,C, ...
and M, N, O, ... that respectively encompass the things U, V, W, ... and
X, Y, z, ... and also stand in the relation of exclusion. If we already know
of such ideas, the present problem can be dealt with as described in the
previous section. But it is not necessary for such ideas to be given to
us directly. Rather, it suffices if we only have some ideas H ,I, K, ...
which encompass all of U, V, W, ... X, Y, Z, ... and several others
A,B,C, ... that represent U, V, W, ... if not exclusively, at least in such
423 a way that they represent none of X, Y, Z, ..... For if this is the case, the
ideas [H](non a+ non b +non c + · ·· ), [!](non a+ non b+ non c+ · · · ),
[K] (non a+ non b +non c + · ··) will certainly not all be objectless, and
yet together will encompass all of X, Y, Z, .... For it follows from the
mere form of these ideas that the first contains all the H that are neither
A nor B nor C, ... , the second all the I that are neither A nor B nor
C, ... , and so on; but all of X, Y, Z, ... must certainly be found among
these H ,I, .... Obviously, these ideas stand in the relation of exclusion
to the given ideas A, B, C, ... ; thus they meet the stated requirement,
and we can use them instead of M, N, 0, .... If 8 is to be an attribute
that belongs exclusively to U, V, W, ... among all of U, V, W, ... , X,
Y, z, ... , then the following propositions must hold: "Every A has 8",
"Every B has 8'', "Every C has 8'', etc., and also "No [H] (na + nb + ·· ·)
has 8", "No [I](na + nb + .. ·) has 8", etc. Instead of the latter negative
propositions, it suffices to show that none of the ideas [H] (na + nb + ·· · ),
[I](na + nb + ... ), etc., has objectuality. Let us illustrate with a simple
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Particular Rules
example. Suppose U is an equilateral triangle, V is a square, W a quadri-
lateral with unequal sides, the opposite angles of which acid up to two
right angles, X a rhombus, and Y a quadrangle with an inward pointing
angle. The ideas through which these things are represented are: the con-
cept of a triangle (H), which includes the thing U, and the concept of a
quadrangle (I) which englobes the remaining things V, W, X, Y. Finally,
the ideas through which the things U, V, W are known are: the concept
of a triangle (A), covering U, and the concept of a quadrangle whose op-
posite angles add up to two right angles (representing V and W). Since
these two concepts do not englobe X or Y, our method can be applied.
The concept [H] (non a+ non b) is here the concept of a triangle which is 424
neither a triangle, nor a quadrangle whose opposite angles add up to two
right angles. Since this concept is imaginary, we may simply omit it. The
concept [I] (non a + non b) will be the concept of a quadrangle which is
neither a triangle nor the kind of quadrangle whose opposite angles add
up to two right angles. If we remove the redundancy in this concept, we
obtain that of a quadrangle whose opposite angles do not add up to two
right angles, an idea which in fact covers the things X and Y. If we now
compare this concept with the given concepts A and B, we soon discover
the difference that the things standing under A and B are polygons that
may be inscribed in a circle, which is not the case for the things standing
under [I] (non a+ non b). It is easy to see, however, that in the contrary
case, when the given ideas H, I, ... , A, B, C, ... do not meet the stated
condition (i.e., when A, B, C, ... also cover some of the things X, Y, Z, ... )
it is impossible to solve the problem at hand, that of finding an attribute
that belongs only to U, V, W, ... but not to any of X, Y, Z, .... For since I
only know the objects U, V, W, ... and U, V, W, ... , X, Y, Z, ... through
the ideas A, B, C, ... and H, I, ... , I can at most recognise that a certain
attribute belongs to all the things standing under A, B, C, ... , but not to
any of the things belonging to either the H or I which are also neither A
nor B nor C. Since I may not presuppose that none of X, Y, Z, ... stands
under one of the ideas A, B, C, ... , an attribute may indeed belong ex-
clusively to A, B, C, ... among all of H, I, ... but not to U, V, W, ...
exclusively among all the U, V, W, X, Y, Z, ... , as it may still belong to X,
Y, Z. It is no less obvious that for this business of seeking an attribute that
belongs exclusively to U, V, W, ... among the U, V, W, ... , X, Y, Z, ... ,
it is highly advantageous if the given ideas A, B, C, ... and H, I, ... are 425
as narrow as possible, i.e., if the former represent only U, V, W, ... , the
latter only X, Y, Z, ..... In this case the ideas [H] (non a+ non b + · ·· ),
281
 THE ART OF DISCOVERY §. 359.
[I] (non a+ non b + · · · ), etc., will cover X, Y, Z, ... exclusively, so that
the best case, as described in the previous section, occurs.
If, finally, the problem is to discover an attribute that belongs to the
given objects U, V, W, ... exclusively among all conceivable objects, then
this amounts to discovering a difference between the objects U, V, W, ...
on the one hand and all other objects on the other. According to what
was just said, this will require that the ideas A, B, C, ... through which
these objects are given fit no other objects, and thus represent U, V, W, ...
exclusively. But in this case the objects other than U, V, W, ... will be rep-
resented by [Something](non a+non b+non c+ ···),and our problem is
one of discovering a difference between the objects comprehended under
the ideas A,B,C, ... on the one hand and [Somethingl(non a+non b+
non c + · · · ) on the other. If 6 is to be such a difference, the following
propositions must hold: Every A has 6, Every B has 6, ... and, finally, No
[Something](non a+ non b +non c +···)has 6.
§.359.
X. Discovering an idea that subsumes a given multitude of objects
Nothing is required as often as the discovery of an idea that subsumes a
given multitude of objects, though it is often left unspecified whether it
426 should represent these objects exclusively. It is obvious that without even
knowing the objects X, Y, Z, ... in the slightest we may claim that the
concept of "something in general" subsumes all of them, and thus is one
of the ideas that solves our problem. But if one demands an idea that does
not have such a wide extension, it is clearly necessary that we be given
one or more ideas that apply to these objects, in such a way that none of
them is not represented by any of the ideas. For if among the given objects
X,Y,Z, ... there were even one which none of the ideas A,B,C, ...
represented, it would remain completely unknown to us, and hence we
could never be sure that an idea M we had come up with subsumed all
of X, Y, Z, . . . , no matter how wide its extension, unless M had the
widest extension of all, that of the idea "something in general". But it is
not necessary for the one or several ideas A, B, C, ... through which the
objects X, Y, Z, ... are presented and made known to us to represent these
objects exclusively, i.e., represent no objects besides X,Y,Z, .... For if
the extensions of these ideas, taken together, do not exhaust the extension
of something in general, then it will always be possible to discover an idea
M that subsumes all of them, and indeed more, and this idea will certainly
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Particular Rules
also subsume X, Y,Z, . .. and thus be constituted in the way required by
our problem. But the circumstance of whether the objects X, Y, Z, ... are
known to us through a single idea A or through several A, B, C, ... makes
a difference in the way we must proceed.
1) The first case occurs both when the problem is to find an idea M
that subsumes a single object X and when we are supposed to hit upon an
idea that represents several objects X, Y, Z, ... , where we do not know 427
any difference between them since X, Y,Z, ... are only represented by
one and the same idea A. In the former case, our problem is at bottom
that of finding an idea that has either the same extension as a given idea
A or a wider one, i.e., is either equivalent or superordinate to A. One
obvious way to accomplish this is to attempt to recall an attribute that all
of the objects standing under A possess or, what amounts to the same, to
recall a truth of the form "Every A has b". If we have an attribute b that
belongs to all A, then the concretum B will be an idea of the required kind,
since the idea B will have either the same or a wider extension than A. If
we already know a truth of the form "A has b" or, what amounts to the
same, if we have an attribute b that belongs to all A, it is to be expected
that it will occur to us merely because we direct our attention towards the
idea A for a while, since A and Bare associated through simultaneity. But
if we do not know any attribute that belongs to all A, we must first try
to find one; this will be dealt with below. If the idea A is complex, and
of the form [Something](a + u. + · · · ), then merely omitting some of the
parts a, u., ... will give rise to an idea that has, if not a wider, at least not
a narrower extension than A, and thus solves our problem.
2) In the second case, when there are several ideas A, B, C, ... which
represent the objects X, Y, Z, ... , the problem is to discover an idea M
whose extension contains all those of A, B, C, .... Obviously, we will
have such an idea as soon as we know of an attribute that belongs to all the
objects standing under A, B, C, .... For if m were such an attribute, the 428
concretum M would be an idea under which all of A,B,C, ... stand, and
hence under which all of X,Y,Z, ... stand. Our problem is accordingly
reduced to that of §356, that of finding an attribute common to given ob-
jects or, in other words, that of finding a similarity between these objects.
If A,B,C, ... are complex ideas of the forms [Something]( a+ u. + · · · ),
[Somethingl(b + ~ + · · · ), [Somethingl(c + y + · · · ), ... , then one in-
vestigates whether among the parts a,u., ... , b,~, ... c, y, ... , etc.,
there are any common ones. If u. is one such, then the idea [Something]u.
would have, if not a wider, at least no narrower an extension than the ideas
283
 THE ART OF DISCOVERY§. 360.
A,B,C, ... , and hence would be a solution to our problem. It should be
noted that the instructions just given will not lead us to every idea that
would solve our problem. For the required idea need not be of the form
of a concrete idea, and if the objects X, Y, Z, ... that are supposed to be
subsumed by an idea are existing things, one can in many cases combine
intuitions from these objects with certain general concepts to produce an
idea that subsumes them all. Such techniques cannot be spoken of here,
however, in part because such a procedure cannot be generally applied, in
part because it requires more than mere reflection.
Note. Concerning the present problem (in his terms, that of find-
ing a generic concept for given kinds A, B, C, ... ) LAMBERT (N. 0.,
Dian., §42) says that we need only compare the most different of these
kinds, and single out their common characteristics. This was a mistake,
as MAAB (Gr: d. L., §468 note 3) pointed out. Attributes which belong to
the most different kinds or individuals of a genus need not belong to all
429 the kinds or individuals of the genus.
§.360.
XI. Discovering an idea that subsumes more
than a given multitude of objects
In the previous section we learned how to find an idea that subsumes
given objects, where it does not matter whether the idea subsumes other
objects as well. The problem becomes somewhat more specific if we are
required to discover an idea that subsumes more objects than the given
ones. It goes without saying that this is only possible if the given objects
X, Y, Z, ... are not the collection of all objects, and also that the objects
must be known to us through one or more ideas A, B, C, ... that collec-
tively subsume all of X,Y,Z, ... without being so wide as to encompass
all objects whatsoever. If the ideas A,B,C, ... are so wide that they sub-
sume other objects in addition to X, Y, Z, ... and we are aware of this
relation, our problem may be solved simply by following the instructions
of the previous section for finding an idea subsuming A, B, C, .... If, how-
ever, the extension of the given ideas A, B, C, ... subsumes X, Y, Z, ...
but no other object, then the idea we are to discover must have a greater
extension than A,B,C, ... together. If X,Y,Z, ... are known to us only
through a single idea A, then our problem is to find an idea that is super-
ordinate to A. We can accomplish this in many ways. First, if we know of
objects U, V, ... that do not stand under A but do stand under the idea B,
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Particular Rules
we may seek an idea that subsumes the objects standing under either A or
B as described in the previous section. This idea will obviously be wider 430
than A and hence as required. But this procedure, in which the objects
U. V, ... that are to be subsumed by the new idea along with all the A are
arbitrarily chosen, will not always lead us to an idea of the sort we need.
Another procedure that can be useful consists in bringing to mind all the
attributes of the objects standing under A that we are able to discover (i.e.,
all truths of the form "A has b") and then inquiring whether any of these
is such that it is found in more objects than the A or (what amounts to
the same) for which the truth "Not every Bis an A" can be demonstrated.
Obviously, every such B is a higher idea of the required sort. Thus, for
example, if someone had set me the problem of discovering an idea that
is higher than the idea "human", I would run through all the known at-
tributes of humans, asking whether any gives rise to a concretum that, put
in the place of B in "Every B is a human" states something demonstrably
false. The idea "mortality" is one such, and hence the concept of a mortal
is higher than that of a human. If the given idea is complex, one may
above all inquire whether the simple omission of some of its parts will
produce a higher idea. Thus, given the concept of a living being that has
only one heart, one may, by omitting the idea "one", derive the higher
concept of a being with (one or more) hearts. If the objects X, Y, Z, ...
are known through several ideas A, B, C, ... , one may first seek an idea
M that subsumes all of A, B, C, ... , following the instructions of the
previous section, and then seek a wider idea in the way just described. 431
§.361.
XII. Discovering an idea that subsumes fewer
than a given multitude of objects
We have the exact opposite of the previous problem when we are asked
to discover an idea that represents not all of a given multitude of objects
X, Y, Z, ... , but only a part of them, without specifying which part this
should be. For this to be possible, there must actually be several objects
X, Y, Z, ... , at least two. It is also obvious that these objects must be
known to us through ideas which, we are assured, subsume no other ob-
jects apart form X, Y, Z, .... For if the given ideas A, B, C, ... subsumed
more objects than X, Y, Z, ... , we could never be sure that a certain idea
M, no matter how much we were to narrow its extension, did not repre-
sent one of these other objects. Thus the given ideas must either subsume
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 THE ART OF DISCOVERY§. 361.
all of X,Y,Z, ... and nothing else besides, or else have a narrower ex-
tension, and thus not even subsume all of X,Y,Z, .... But here we must
distinguish two cases, depending upon whether there is one idea or more
than one. If we only know the objects X, Y, Z, ... through a single idea
A, and A does not subsume all of these objects, it is obvious that A is the
idea our problem requires. If, however, A subsumes all of X,Y,Z, ... ,
the problem is actually that of finding an idea that is subordinate to A.
Now if several objects that A represents are of the sort that we can pro-
cure ideas of each individually, e.g., through intuitions, it is obvious that
432 any such idea solves our problem. But if we cannot assume that we al-
ready possess several singular ideas of this sort, there is no other way that
leads to our goal than for us to bring to mind as many attributes of things
as we can and, by comparing them with A, try to find one, b, that belongs
to some, but not all, A; or, what amounts to the same, concerning which
we may show that both of the ideas [A]b and [A]non b have objectuality.
It soon becomes clear that in this case we obtain a pair of solutions to
our problem, since if both [A]b and [A]non bare objectual, then both are
certainly lower than A. It should be noted, however, that the new idea
we seek need not be a compound containing A. Thus we must inquire
whether among the many attributes of things, we recall that there is one
b that already furnishes a concretum B that is a lower idea than A. This
will be the case when the two propositions "Every B is an A" and "Not
every A is a B" (or "The idea [A ]non b has objectuality") hold. It goes
without saying that if none of the attributes b, b', b", ... meets this condi-
tion, we have no assurance that combining them will produce an attribute
that does. For if none of the ideas B,B',B", ... is itself lower than A,
the idea [Something] (b + b' + b" +···)can also fail to be lower than A.
Thus if we haven't tested certain attributes b, b', b", ... individually, we
need not test combinations of two, three, or more of them. The procedure
described so far, even with any shortcuts we might introduce, remains not
only time-consuming but also leaves it to mere chance whether among
the infinite number of attributes that there are in general we hit hit upon
433 exactly the ones that are met with in the A. Thus it would be good if
the kind of attributes that might usefully be considered could be speci-
fied more precisely. According to the law of association of simultaneous
ideas, we may expect not only that the idea of a thing will bring to mind
the attributes we know it to have, but also that the idea of an attribute will
bring to mind many objects that possess it. Thus if instead of keeping the
given idea A in mind, we think the corresponding abstractum, i.e., of the
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Particular Rules
attribute a, we may hope that the ideas of many objects that possess this
attribute will spring to mind, provided that we know of any such. Now if
it is true that all the objects standing under the idea C have the attribute
a, it is clear that the idea C, provided that it is not equivalent to A, will
have a smaller extension than A. And since it is far more common that the
subject-idea has a smaller extension than the concretum corresponding to
the predicate-idea, we may expect that when we recall several such ideas
C, of which the predicate a may be ascribed, some of them will have a
narrower extension than A. But the only ideas we discover in this way
will be those we could already have known to be subordinate to A. In
order to find others, including completely new ones, we may try the fol-
lowing path. First, we seek several attributes m, n, o, ... that belong to A
or, what amounts to the same thing, ideas M,N, 0, ... which we know
to have the same or wider extensions than A. We now undertake with
each of these, one after the other, what we had previously clone with A,
i.e., we recall all sorts of objects R,S, T, ... that stand under these ideas
(one object under one idea, another under another). Naturally, we can ar- 434
rive at a greater number of objects, or rather of ideas R, S, T, ... through
which we think of these objects, in this way than we could before. For
previously, when we only had the idea a to call forth associated ideas,
we now have many such (m, n, o, ... ) for this purpose. But since some
of the ideas R,S, T, ... that we discover in this way will stand under M,
others under N, and still others under 0, etc., and hence under ideas that
are themselves subordinate to A, it is likely that some of R, S, T, ... will
also stand under A, or at least that combining them to produce ideas of the
form [Something](r+s+ ···)will yield an idea subordinate to A. By way
of illustration, suppose that we were given the problem of finding ideas
that are subordinate to the concept of a triangle with unequal sides (sca-
lene) =A. We begin by inquiring about attributes m, n, o, ... that belong
generally to the objects of the given concept, and are led to the concept of
a triangle in general as well as that of a figure with unequal sides. If now,
conversely, we ask about objects R, S, T, U, ... that have these attributes
(triangularity and of not having any equal sides), it may occur to us with
reference to the former that triangles come with different sorts of angles,
and may be acute-angled, right-angled, or obtuse-angled; and, with ref-
erence to the latter, that there are figures whose sides are in arithmetical,
geometrical or harmonic proportion. If we now inquire whether any of
these concepts stands under that of a scalene triangle, it turns out that this
is not the case for the concepts of an acute-, right- or obtuse-angled trian-
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 THE ART OF DISCOVERY§. 361. Particular Rules

gle, since these may have two equal sides. The concepts of figures whose §.362.
sides are in arithmetical, geometrical, or harmonic proportion stand in the
435 relation of overlapping with the concept of a scalene triangle; combined XIII. Discovering an idea that exactly
with the latter, then, they will yield concepts narrower than the given one, subsumes a given multitude of objects
namely, that of a triangle whose sides are in arithmetical, geometrical, or
A more difficult problem than the previous two is that of finding an idea
harmonic proportion. If we have succeeded in finding ideas R, S, T, U, ...
that exclusively or exactly (adequately) subsumes a given multitude of
that stand under the given idea A, combining these with each other will
objects X, Y, Z, .... Now one usually says that such ideas determine the
easily yield more such. For if even one of R, S, T, U, ... is lower than A,
given objects. Thus the problem may also be expressed as that of discov-
then so too is [Something](r + s + · · · ), provided that it is objectual. We
ering an idea that determines given objects. One soon sees that in order
need only observe which of the ideas formed through combination in this
to solve this problem the objects X, Y, Z, ... must not only be known to
way are objectual. Thus, since the concept of a triangle whose sides are
us, but known to us by means of ideas that apply exclusively to them.
in arithmetical proportion is already lower than that of a scalene triangle,
For if the ideas through which we know the objects X, Y, Z, ... do not
we immediately obtain other lower concepts when we investigate whether
subsume all of these objects, we would not be able to say that an idea
it may be united with the concept of a right-, or acute- or obtuse-angled
we have thought up subsumes all of them, while if the ideas subsume 437
triangle. This proves its worth, and leads to the concept of a triangle
other objects in addition to X, Y, Z, ... , we would not be able to say
whose sides are in arithmetic proportion and which is right-angled (or
that the idea we have thought up does not subsume any additional ob-
acute-angled, or obtuse-angled).* But ideas R,S, T, U, . .. , which are not
jects. The two cases discussed in the previous problems are also present
themselves lower than A, may also be combined to produce ideas of the
here: the objects X, Y, Z, ... may be known to us through one idea or
form [Something](r+s+ ···)which are lower than A; thus if it is a matter
through several. In the first case, i.e., when we either seek an idea that
of finding the greatest possible number of subordinate ideas, we should
fits the one or several objects known through the idea A exclusively, the
not fail to examine combinations of such ideas. The only difference is
ideas we seek must be equivalent to A. Thus the problem is that of find-
that in addition to checking whether the ideas produced are objectual we
ing ideas equivalent to a given object-idea. One way this may be done
436 must also see whether they are in fact lower than A. Finally, we must also
through pure reflection is to follow the instructions given in §358 and
consider the case where the objects X,Y,Z, ... are known to us through
seek attributes that belong exclusively to the things represented by A. If
several ideas. Since these ideas are not applicable to any other objects,
m is such an attribute, then M yields an idea equivalent to A. Thus we
only one of the following cases may occur. Either we know of one or
must see what attributes b, b', b" the objects standing under A possess,
more of the ideas A, B, C, ... that it subsumes only some of X, Y, Z, ... or
i.e., we must try to become acquainted with all truths of the form "A
else we know this of none of them. In the first case, when we know that
has b", set these out, and investigate whether one of these attributes, or
one of the given ideas A, B, C, ... does not subsume all of X, Y, Z, ... ,
some combination of them, belongs exclusively to the A; that is, we must
it is itself an idea of the kind our problem requires. In the second case,
see whether by combining these attributes in order to produce ideas of
when we do not know of any of A,B,C, ... that it subsumes only some
the form [Something] (b + b' + b" + · · · ) we produce one for which the
of X,Y,Z, ... , we need only, following the rules already given, seek an
proposition that every [Something] (b + b' + b" + · · ·) is an A holds. If
idea that is lower than one of these and hence will certainly not subsume
this proposition is found to be true, then [Something] (b + b' + b" + ... ) is
all of X, Y,Z, ....
an idea of the sort we require. If not, then it is still too wide, and we must
attempt to add other attributes that are not mere consequences of these
ones, until we anive at an idea that makes the proposition true. In the
second case, where the objects X,Y,Z, ... are known to us not through a
*Further investigation reveals that the first case only occurs when the sides are in the
ratio 3:4:5, the second when the sides increase at a smaller rate, and the third when they single idea but through severalA,B,C, ... , the problem is to find an idea
increase at a greater rate. M that is equivalent to A,B,C, ... taken together. An idea that immedi- 438

288 289
 THE ART OF DISCOVERY§. 363.
ately suggests itself here is that of "something, that is either an A or a B or
a C etc."; yet we may be asked for other ideas, and in particular ideas that
solve our problem by virtue of their peculiar content rather than simply
by virtue of their form. In order to find such ideas we must, following the
instructions of §358, seek attributes that belong exclusively to the objects
represented by A, B, C, ... If m is such an attribute, then M is the idea
we require. Incidentally, the reminder of §359 to the effect that the rules
aiven there will not lead us to the discovery of every idea that solves our
b
problem, may be repeated here and in the following sections as well. For
all these rules only tell us how to find concreta.
§.363.
XIV. Discovering an idea that represents less than a given multitude
of objects but more than a given part of this multitude
Sometimes we are asked to find an idea that subsumes less than the col-
lection of objects U, V, W, ... , X, Y, Z, ... yet more than a given part
of this collection X, Y, Z, .... But in order for it to be possible for us to
discover an intermediate idea M ( § 100), the ideas H ,I, K, ... , through
which the multitude of the U, V, W, ... , X, Y, Z, ... are known to us,
must not represent more than these objects, while the ideas A,B,C, ... ,
through which the multitude of the X, Y, Z, ... are known to us, must not
represent less than these objects. The first condition follows from §361,
since Mis supposed to cover fewer objects than all of U, V, W, ... , X, Y,
Z, ... , and the second condition follows from §360, as M is supposed to
represent more than just X, Y,Z, .... No less obvious is the necessity of
the condition that the extension of the ideas H ,I, K, ... , through which
the objects U, V, W, ... , X, Y, Z, ... are known to us, and the extension
439 of the ideas A,B,C, ... , through which X,Y,Z, ... are known to us,
must differ by at least two objects. For since we only know the objects
U,V,W, ... , X,Y,Z, ... through the ideas H,I,K, ... , we will only
be justified in believing that an idea M we have thought up does not rep-
resent all of U, V, W, ... , X, Y, Z, ... if we find that it subsumes more
than A,B,C, .... But if the idea Mis supposed to represent less than
H ,I, K, ... and more than A, B, C, ... , it is obvious that the sum of the
objects of H ,I, K, ... must be at least two more than the sum of objects
of A,B,C, .... Now the multitude of objects U, V, W, ... , X,Y,Z, ...
as well as X, Y, Z, ... may each be known to us through a single idea or
through several. Thus there are four cases to consider.
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Particular Rules
1) The first case obtains when the objects U, V, W, ... , X, Y,Z, .. .
are known to us through a single idea H, and the objects X, Y, Z, .. .
through a single idea A. Our problem is then to interpolate an intermedi-
ate idea between two ideas standing in the relation of subordination. One
may proceed as follows to find such an idea. Since the extension of the
idea H surpasses that of A by more than one object, it is certain that the
idea [H]non a is not only objectual, but subsumes more than one object.
Thus, following the instructions of §361, it will be possible to find an idea
with a narrower extension than [H]non a. According to §362, however,
it should not be impossible to think of an idea I that subsumes the ideas
comprehended under A and I and no others. If we have found such an
idea, say E, then E will be higher than A and lower than H, as required 440
by our problem. But since it is often quite difficult to find a serviceable
idea that represents the objects of two given ideas A and I exclusively, it
will be desirable in most cases to have another way of reaching our goal.
One way is to bring to mind all the attributes that belong to all A, i.e., all
of the truths of the form "A has m", and then see whether there is one of
these attributes m for which all of the following propositions hold: All M
are H, not all Hare M, and not all Mare A. If we have discovered such
an attribute m, then M is the sort of idea we seek. Suppose, for example,
we were asked to find a concept that was intermediate between those of
a sun-dial and a clock in general. Among the many attributes that belong
to a sun-dial is that the hours it indicates are not of equal duration. Fur-
ther inquiry reveals that the concept of an object that indicates hours of
unequal length meets the above three conditions; that is, the propositions
that all objects of this sort are clocks, that not all clocks are things of
this sort, nor are all things of this sort sun-dials. Thus the concept of an
object that does not indicate hours of equal length is the sort of interme-
diate concept we seek. In the special case where the idea A is composed
of H and some other ideas, perhaps like [H] (a+ a'+···), one may first
investigate whether merely omitting some of the parts that A contains in
addition to H will give rise to an idea such as [H]a or [H]a', which has the
intermediate extension we seek. Suppose, for example, we are given the
two concepts of a punishment and an evil, and are asked to find an inter-
mediate concept. Since a punishment is nothing other than an evil that is
visited upon a moral person on account of his ethical transgressions, the
comparison of the components of the two concepts immediately leads to 441
the concept of an evil suffered by a moral person; and closer examination
reveals that this concept is, as we require, in fact intermediate.
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 THE ART OF DISCOVERY§. 364.
2) The second case we intend to consider is that where the sum of the
U, V, W, ... , X, Y,Z, ... as well as the sum of the X, Y,Z, ... are known
to us through several ideas (H,l,K, ... and A,B,C, ... respectively). If
it is possible to think of a pair of ideas H' and A' which are respectively
equivalent to H,l,K, ... and A,B,C, ... taken together, then we once
again have the first case, and proceed with H' and A' as we did before with
Hand A. But since it is often difficult to find such ideas, we may proceed
in the following way. Following the instructions of §356, we recall as
many of the attributes common toX,Y,Z, ... (i.e., oftheA,B,C, ... )
as we can, and then inquire which of them meet the following threefold
requirement: first, that they belong to more objects than those standing
under A,B,C, ... , i.e., that the idea [M](non a+ non b +non c + · .. )
has objectuality; second, that all M are contained within the sum of the
U, V, W, ... , X, Y,Z, ... , i.e., the idea [M](non h +non i +non k + ·.. )
is objectless; and finally that some objects among U, V, W, ... are not
M, i.e., that among the ideas [H]non m, [!]non m, [K]non m, ... there is at
least one objectual one. Then, clearly, Mis an idea of the sort we require.
If, for example, we were asked for a concept intermediate between the
three concepts of a regular pentagon, a regular hexagon, and a circle on
the one hand and the two concepts of a polygon and a second-degree
curve on the other, we would begin by acquainting ourselves with the
attributes that are common to the first three things. Among these is the
attribute of being figures that can be constructed geometrically. Further
442 investigation reveals that the concept of such figures in fact encompasses
more than the first three concepts, and less than the two last ones, and
hence is intermediate.
3) The way we must proceed in the third and fourth cases, i.e., when
only one of the two sums U,V,W, ... , X,Y,Z, ... and X,Y,Z, ...
is known to us through several ideas, will be readily gathered from the
foregoing.
§.364.
XV. Discovering an idea which subsumes both
more and less than a given multitude
A final problem related to the ones considered so far is that of discovering
an idea that subsumes both more and less than a given multitude, i.e.,
which covers only some of the given objects U, V, W, ... and at the same
time covers objects not contained in this collection. It goes without saying
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that here there cannot be so many objects U, V, W, ... that there are no
others. It is no less obvious that it would be impossible to find such an
idea if we did not already know the objects U, V, W, ... to some extent;
indeed, we see that we are only in a position to solve this problem if the
ideas A, B, C, ... we have of the given objects comprehend all of these
objects and no others, and thus, as we say, fit them exclusively. Then it
will depend upon whether there is only one such idea, or several.
1) If the objects U, V, W, ... are given through a single idea that ap-
plies exclusively to them, the problem becomes that of thinking up an
idea that stands in the relation of overlapping (§98) to a given idea A.
We could do this by first finding an idea B that is subordinate to A and
an idea C that is subordinate to the idea Non-A according to the instruc- 443
tions of §361, and then finding an idea M which subsumes the objects of
B and C, or of B and Non-A, and none others, following the instructions
of §362. Then M and A would certainly overlap. Another, usually far
easier way to solve the problem is by first seeking an idea B that is sub-
ordinate to A, and bringing to mind all the attributes that belong to all B
that we can, then investigating whether among these there is an attribute
m that meets the following two conditions: first, that it does not belong
to all A, or that the idea [A]non m has objectuality; and second, that m
also belongs to some things that do not belong under A, or that the idea
[M]non a has objectuality. If both conditions are met, M and A overlap.
If A were the idea of a musical instrumental, for example, we would first
seek an idea subordinate to it, e.g., that of an organ, and then consider
the various attributes of organs. One of these is that it can imitate various
voices, including the human voice. Examining this attribute according
to the previous instructions, we find that the concept of an object that
imitates the human voice actually stands in the required relation of over-
lapping with the given concept. If we review the rules given in §361 for
finding ideas subordinate to a given one, we see that they would serve
equally well for finding an idea that overlaps with a given one. Among
the collections of attributes that we know a thing to have, we seek those
for which the following three ideas are objectual: [Something]( a+ m),
[Something]( a+ non m), and [Something](non a+ m). Then Mand A
certainly stand in a relation of overlapping. If the idea B that is subor-
dinate to the idea A is composed of A and other parts, say as [A]p, it is
natural to ask first whether the idea P would itself yield an idea that stands 444
in the required relation of overlapping. And if the idea A is composite,
with the form [Something](a +ex+···), we may also hope to come by an
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 THE ART OF DISCOVERY§. 365.
overlapping idea by omitting some of the parts of this idea and combining
the rest with p, i.e., producing an idea of the form [Something]( rx + p ).
For example, let the given idea A be the concept of a morally good action,
and the subordinate idea that of a morally good action that is physically
enforceable. If we omit the concept of moral goodness from this sub-
ordinate idea, we obtain the concept of a physically enforceable action
in general, which stands in the required relation of overlapping with the
concept of a morally good action.
2) It remains to consider the case where we know the objects U, V,
W, ... through several ideas A, B, C, .... It is obvious that this case
can be reduced to the first, if we are able, following §362, to indicate an
idea A' which is equivalent to A,B,C, ... taken together. But since this
procedure rarely leads to a serviceable idea, we must mention another.
We begin by seeking an idea L that stands under one of A,B,C, ... ,
or only includes a part of the objects standing under A,B,C, .... We
then enumerate the attributes that belong to all L, and see whether among
them there is one m which meets the following two conditions: first, that
it does not belong to all A,B,C, ... or, what amounts to the same, that
at least one of the ideas [A]non m, [B]non m, [C]non m, ... is objectual;
and second, that there are objects that stand under M but not under any of
A, B, C, ... , i.e., that [M] (non a+ non b +non c + ··· ) is objectual. If we
445 find such an attribute m, then M will be an idea of the required sort. Given
the similarity of this procedure with that of no. 1, it is clear that similar
shortcuts may sometimes be used here as well. Suppose, for example,
that the given objects are exhaustively and exclusively represented by the
concepts of a right-angled triangle, a square, a right-angled sector of a
circle, and an ellipse. We seek an attribute that belongs to one or several
of these things, and may hit upon the concept of a figure that contains
right angles. When we examine this, we find that it is what we require.
§.365.
XVI. Discovering several ideas which only collectively
subsume a given multitude of objects
One of the most important and common problems requires us to find a
collection of ideas M, N, 0, ... that exactly subsume a given multitude of
things X, Y, Z, ... and, in addition, stand in the relation of exclusion to
one another. If we know how to do this, it will be even easier to solve the
other problems that might be raised here, e.g., if we omit the condition
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that the ideas we seek must be mutually exclusive. It goes without saying
that the number of ideas M,N, 0, ... , which together are supposed to
subsume all of X,Y,Z, ... , may in no case be greater than the number
of these objects themselves; and also that these objects must be known
through one or more ideas A,B,C, ... that apply to them exclusively.
1) If they are given to us through a single idea A, then the problem we
have to solve is actually this: to discover a collection of several ideas that
exhaust the extension of a given idea A, or to divide this extension into a
given number of parts (§104). According to §140, no. 10, this problem 446
can also be called that of establishing an exact classification. Since the
ideas we must find all stand under A, it is natural to look for them among
the ideas standing under A, which we know how to find from §361. And
in fact each of these ideas can be used for our purposes. For if M is sub-
ordinate to A, then it follows that every Mis an A, but not every A is an
M. Thus the idea [A]non m is also objectual, and stands in the relation
of exclusion to M. The two ideas M and [A]non m together, however,
certainly exhaust the extension of A. Thus if we are asked for only two
ideas that together exhaust the extension of A, our problem is solved by
Mand [A]non m. But if we are required to divide the extension of A into
more than two parts, we need only undertake with one or both of the
ideas Mand [A]non m what we did before with A, repeating this as often
as needed to obtain the required number of parts. For example, suppose
the idea A is that of a triangle, and the subordinate idea M that first oc-
curs to us is that of an isosceles triangle. The idea [A]non mis then that
of a triangle that does not have two equal sides, i.e., a scalene triangle.
Here it is obvious that these two ideas together exhaust the extension of
the idea of a triangle in general. But if we want to divide this extension
in more than two parts, a further division that suggests itself is based on
the idea of an equilateral triangle (one in which more than one pair of
sides are equal), which is subordinate to M. If we call this idea M', then
the idea [M]non m' is that of a triangle with only one pair of equal sides,
which is an isosceles triangle in the narrower sense. If we replace M with 447
these two ideas, which exhaust its extension, we obtain the three follow-
ing ideas, which together exhaust the extension of the idea of a triangle
in general: that of an equilateral triangle, that of an isosceles triangle in
the narrower sense, and that of a scalene triangle. It is obvious that the
instructions just given permit us to discover a great many collections of
ideas M,N, 0, ... that all have the attribute of exhausting the extension
of a given idea A. For depending on whether we choose these or those
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 THE ART OF DISCOVERY§. 365.
ideas from among the subordinate ideas we have found following §361
to go along with M, and depending upon whether we take further parts
within Mor [A]non m, different collections of ideas will result. We can
also proceed in many other ways, e.g., as follows. If, following §361, we
have first found a considerable number of ideas M,N, 0, ... that stand
under A, we can, following §355, investigate which of these happen to be
so constituted that they stand in the relation of exclusion to one another.
If we have found some of these, say M,N, 0, ... , then we may inquire,
further, whether these already exhaust the extension of A, i.e., whether the
idea [A] (non m +non n +non o + · ··) is objectless. If this is not the case,
we need simply add the idea [A] (non m +non n +non o + ·· ·) to our col-
lection in order to obtain the sort we require. Thus the books in a certain
library might be quite appropriately classified as theological, philosoph-
ical, mathematical, physical, etc., and, finally, those that belong to none
of these fields (miscellaneous).
2) If the objects X, Y, Z, ... are known to us not through a single
448 idea, but rather through several ideas A,B,C, ... applying exclusively
to them, how to proceed depends upon whether or not these ideas stand
in the relation of mutual exclusion. If they do, then these very ideas are
a collection of the required sort. But if we are asked to find other such
collections, it may happen that we replace one or more of A, B, C, ... with
ideas equivalent to them. The various collections of complementary ideas
that result will have the peculiarity of dividing the multitude X,Y,Z, ...
in exactly the same way (into the same parts). But if we are asked to find
collections of ideas M, N, 0, ... that divide the multitude X, Y, Z, ... into
different parts than A, B, C, ... do, we may proceed as follows. First,
following §§361 and 363, we seek an idea M that either subsumes more
than the given ideas A,B,C, ... or else subsumes more than one of these
ideas but less than all of them collectively. Under these conditions, the
ideas [A]non m, [B]non m, [C]non m, ... will certainly not all be objectless.
If we choose those that have an object, say [B]non m and [C]non m, then
it is obvious that they, along with M, exhaust the extension of all A B
' '
C, .... We need not mention that here we may, as in no. 1, further divide
the ideas M, [B]non m, and [C]non m, provided that they are not singular
ideas, and thus increase the number of ideas that collectively exhaust the
extension of the given ideas A,B,C, .... If the given ideas A,B,C, ...
are not mutually exclusive, then in order to attain our goal we need not
first look for an idea M that is wider or narrower than one of them, but
can instead choose one of these ideas, provided that it does not already
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subsume all of X, Y, Z, .... If, for example, A is of this sort, then among 449
the ideas [B]non a, [C]non a, ... at least one will be objectual; and the
one or more ideas that are like this, taken together, furnish the required
collection.
§.366.
XVII. Defining a proposition that is given to our consciousness
If orderly reflection requires us to elevate a considerable number of the
mere ideas we have to distinct consciousness and to determine their con-
tent, it requires this all the more for our judgements. Thus the following
question arises frequently in all reflection: how does the judgement you
just formed run, and what are its parts? The way to answer this ques-
tion has a good deal in common with the procedure we follow in defining
an idea given to our consciousness (§350). Here too we must repeatedly
attempt to attain an intuition of the judgement that is as vivid and long-
lasting as possible, and then direct our attention towards the constituents
of the judgement. In order to pick out the ideas that really are parts of
our judgement from among all those that come to mind in such attempts,
i.e., to distinguish them from others that appear merely through associ-
ation via simultaneity, we must inquire whether the ideas that appear to
be such parts may really be combined to form a judgement, and indeed
the very judgement we have just formed. Ideas that do not allow of being
so combined may be cast aside. If we have formed a proposition M with
ideas ex,~, y, ... that seems to be completely identical to the judgement
A we are supposed to define, the correctness of this surmise will be con- 450
firmed mainly by our ability to deduce the same consequences from M
as we can from A. Admittedly, this really only shows, strictly speaking,
that the two are equivalent (§ 156). But if the constituents of which M
is composed are all found in A as well, and our most carefully scrutiny
reveals no parts in A that are not also in M, nor any parts combined in
different manners in the two, we may be allowed to surmise that we have
correctly indicated the way A is composed in our definition. Obviously,
the given instructions for defining a proposition may also be applied in
cases where it does not actually appear in our minds as a judgement, but
rather is merely represented.
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 THE ART OF DISCOVERY§. 367, 368.
§.367.
XVIII. Investigating whether a given proposition is analytic or synthetic
Once we know all the parts of which a proposition is composed, the de-
termination of most of its inner attributes follows almost of itself-for
example, whether it is simple or complex, affirmative or negative, a con-
ceptual or an intuitional proposition, etc. It is not so easy to answer the
question whether a given proposition belongs to the class of the analytic
or to that of the synthetic. According to § 148, a proposition is called an-
alytic if a part in it can be indicated which could be exchanged for any
other idea without losing the truth, or falsity, it originally had, provided
that it remains objectual. Admittedly, we cannot figure out by means of
an immediate inquiry whether this is the case with respect to the given
proposition and if so with respect to which ideas; rather, we must gather
this from the form of the proposition. We must look upon now this now
that of its components as variable, and then judge from the peculiar at-
451 tributes of its remaining parts and their combination whether the propo-
sition might remain true or false regardless of what one puts in the place
of that variable part. Occasionally, this is obvious-for instance, when a
predicate is ascribed to this subject which is already thought in the sub-
ject, or more generally for analytic propositions of the sort adduced in
§ 148 no. 2. For other propositions, however, much knowledge may be re-
quired in order to judge. Thus, for example, only a mathematician knows
that the proposition "the sum of the angles in a regular quadrangle equals
four right angles" is analytic with respect to the concept "regular". When
we are unable to discover that a proposition is analytic but find, on the
contrary, that for each of its parts there is a variation which changes its
truth or falsity, then we are justified in declaring it synthetic.
§.368.
XIX. Investigating the relations between given propositions
If we have been presented with several propositions A, B, C, ... , we
may be asked about the relations between them. Some of these, e.g.,
if the propositions deal with the same object, are subordinate to one an-
other, etc., are obvious once we know the constituents of the propositions.
Others, by contrast-e.g., whether the given propositions stand in the re-
lation of ground to consequence or the relation of probability and, if so,
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what degree of probability is involved-often require a good deal of other
knowledge to decide. Thus we shall only say a few words here about the
manner in which these relations may be judged. It is easiest to see that
certain propositions A, B, C, D, ... stand in the relation of compatibility
with respect to the variable ideas i, j, ... (§ 154) by finding certain ideas
which, when put in the places of i,j, ... , make all of A,B,C,D, ... true.
But if we must demonstrate that the propositions M,N,O, . .. are de-
ducible fromA,B,C, ... with respect to the variable ideas i,j, ... (§155) 452
we can by no means do so by showing that all of the infinitely many ideas
which, when put in the places of i,j, ... , make all of A,B,C, ... true, also
make all of M, N, 0, ... true. Rather, we must gather this from a consid-
eration of the form of these propositions-either directly, or else through
the consideration of other truths. The most important forms where a re-
lation of deducibility can be recognised, either immediately or with the
help of knowledge belonging to logic, have been discussed in the chap-
ter dealing with inferences. Others, those where mathematical, historical,
etc., knowledge is required to judge are not treated here. We can only see
that a relation of equivalence obtains between the propositions A, B, C, ...
and M,N,O, ... with respect to the ideas i,j, ... (§156) by showing
that A,B,C, ... and M,N, 0, ... are mutually deducible with respect to
these ideas. If the deducibility is not mutual, we learn that the proposi-
tions stand in a relation of subordination (§ 157); and if we find that the
propositions A, B, C, ... and M, N, 0, ... are compatible, but there is no
relation of deducibility between them (which reveals itself as soon as we
find ideas i,j, ... that make one part true without making the other true),
we learn that they stand in a relation of overlapping (§ 158). Finally, it
is easy to see from the definitions of § 159 how to judge whether given
propositions stand in the relations of incompatibility, exclusion, mutual
exclusion (or contradiction), or mere contrariety. 453
§.369.*
XX. Testing the truth of a given proposition
Testing the truth of a given proposition is the most frequently encoun-
tered problem in human reflection, since, as remarked in §352, problems
of other kinds may almost always be reduced to one or more of this sort.
This is the reason why I have already mentioned some of the rules that
must be observed here. But earlier I spoke only of rules that are com-
pletely general, no matter what sort of problem was involved. Thus some
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 THE ART OF DISCOVERY§. 369.
things that apply only in certain cases were not mentioned, and may be
taken up here. If we must answer the question whether or not a given
proposition M is true, much depends upon whether it belongs to the class
of purely conceptual truths or to that of empirical truths. If we find that it
consists entirely of concepts, it will be appropriate to begin by analysing
these concepts. Then, from the propositions we seek, following the pre-
cepts of §§328-330, in order to decide mediately the truth or falsity of M,
we begin by choosing those which contain these very concepts. For if M
is a truth, then the ground of this truth (if it is not a basic truth, in which
case it will be self-evident to us) lies in other conceptual truths which (as
we know from §221) are no more complex than M itself. Thus if we form
all, or almost all, the propositions which can be formed by combining the
concepts occurring in M, it may be surmised that these will contain the
propositions which contain the ground of M. We may also expect these
propositions to be for the most part simpler and more evident than M,
454 and thus more readily recognised to be true, if not at first glance, then
at least after some reflection. But if we have first recognised the truth
of the propositions that are the grounds of M, it is to be hoped that we
will also be able to see the truth of M itself. But if M is false, Neg.M
will be a truth, and indeed one which, setting aside the few concepts in-
volved in negation, contains no more concepts than M. Thus if we have
formed all or almost all of the propositions which can be formed with
the concepts occurring in M along with those of negation, we may expect
through a consideration of these propositions to recognise that and why
M is false. But if we are unsuccessful in our attempts to prove or refute
our proposition through purely conceptual truths, the only thing that re-
mains is to see whether experience yields grounds capable of deciding
the question. If the proposition is empirical, i.e., contains intuitions, then
we may know in advance that through mere concepts we could at most
show its falsity, but never its truth. The former case occurs when closer
consideration reveals that the proposition belongs to the special sort of
analytic propositions that remain false no matter what ideas we substitute
for the intuitions they contain. Of this sort would be, for example, the
proposition that the soul of Socrates has been annihilated; for a purely
conceptual truth teaches us that no soul is annihilated, so that the above
proposition is false no matter what object the intuition "Socrates" refers
to. But in order to say with confidence that such a proposition is true, we
must first be assured that the intuitions occurring in it all apply to objects
of the kinds required to make the subject-idea of the proposition a genuine
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object-idea(§ 196). Thus, for example, we could not be sure that the com-
bination of ideas that lie in the words "The soul of Socrates is something
simple" represents a truth until we know that the intuition "Socrates" ap- 455
plies to a being that has a soul. But a proposition that says this, and thus
determines more precisely the object of a given intuition, is an empirical
proposition, and so it is obvious that the truth of an empirical proposition
can never be established without presupposing other empirical proposi-
tions, thus through experience. The analysis of constituents described in
no. l can also be used with empirical propositions, provided that all the
intuitions the proposition contains are included; but success is far less
certain, since we are seldom in a position to learn the objective grounds
of such truths. Thus, for example, the analysis of the constituents of the
proposition that Alexander defeated King Darius on the river Hydaspes
will not tell us whether it is true; we require testimony from historians for
that. But if it is supposed to be proved through experience that a given
proposition (whether it be purely conceptual or empirical) is true, this can
only happen, generally speaking, if (a) we do not find a single perception
that conflicts with this proposition, i.e., allows us to deduce a proposition
contrary to the given one, and (b) we have had many perceptions that ac-
cord with the given proposition, i.e., which could be deduced from it if
we accepted it as true. Both of these things can occur in many different
ways, with results that are more or less reliable according to the degree
of probability of the inferences by means of which we deduce the per-
ceptions we have made from the proposition under examination (or its
opposite), as well as on the number of such perceptions. Clearly, when it
stands within our power to choose, we should prefer the perceptions that
give the most certain decision on the truth or falsity of the proposition.
We say that such perceptions immediately decide the question, especially
when they can be deduced from the proposition under examination by
a sequence of inferences that are so familiar to us that we are scarcely 456
aware of making them.
It should be noted, however, that there are some propositions, and not
only those consisting merely of concepts but even among the so-called
empirical propositions, which we can know in advance to be undecidable
by experience in the strict sense (i.e., not including testimony). Of this
sort is the proposition that no substance ceases to be in time. For if we re-
flect on this matter a little, it becomes clear that no experience, no matter
how constituted (provided it is not the statement of a witness) would be
able to prove either the truth or the falsity of this proposition. How might
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 THE ART OF DISCOVERY§. 370.
we infer the truth of this proposition? Perhaps because we experience
that every substance that we have once perceived continues to act and an-
nounce its existence? But from this the most that would follow would be
that this substance has persisted thus far, not that it shall continue to do
so for all eternity. Or perhaps we might want to infer the falsity of the
proposition from the fact that we no longer perceive a substance we once
did? But from the fact that a substance no longer acts on us, at least not
in a way that we can perceive, it in no way follows that it has ceased to
be. The proposition that some of the resolutions of our will take place
without a determining ground is similar. Propositions that have this pecu-
liarity merit a special designation. One may call them transcendent or, as
some prefer transcendental, since these words have already been used in
a similar sense. Prudence counsels us to ask whether a given proposition
457 is transcendental before we set out to test it; if it is, any efforts to decide
its truth based on experience would not only be in vain, but would also
expose us to the danger of gross eITors, in that we might take many phe-
nomena which at bottom decide nothing to be proofs either of its truth or
of its falsity. This occurs all too often to those who seek to determine the
question of determinism mentioned above through experience.
§.370.*
XX!. Testing the force of conviction of a given proof
In general, we give the name of a proof of a proposition M to anything
that we think someone may, by directing his attention to it, use in or-
der either to form a judgement M that he had not previously formed, or
else to form it with a higher degree of confidence. In the second case
one speaks of confirmation. All sorts of sensible objects and changes
can furnish proofs, e.g., blushing or turning pale may in certain circum-
stances be proof of guilt. Since most of our judgements, as we saw in
§300, arise through the mediation of others, and thus through the con-
sideration of other propositions, the presentation of a specific collection
of propositions is quite often a means of bringing about a judgement of
a certain kind in the minds of others. It is only this sort of proof that
I mean, the sort consisting in a given collection of propositions, when I
speak of a proof in the strict sense, as is almost always the case in this
book. According to whether the propositions of which a proof consists
are all purely conceptual or else contain some intuitional propositions,
458 I call it, respectively, a proof jl'mn pure concepts or a proof from expe-
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rience. Understandably, some proofs may be appropriate for their end,
i.e., have everything required to bring about the intended judgement (the
judgement to be proved) in the mind of the being that considers the proof,
while others are more or less ill-suited to this end. The degree of appro-
priateness of a proof should not be confused with the actual attainment
of its goal; for even a proof that is suitable in itself may not reach its
goal on account of the hindrance of external circumstances, e.g., lack of
attention on the part of the person to whom we present the proof. So too
a proof that is in itself quite unsuitable may still attain its end. Thus the
appropriateness of a proof should be distinguished from its efficacy. If
the consideration of the propositions A, B, ... is supposed to lead us to the
judgement C, and the consideration of D, E, ... to the judgement F, etc.,
and then the consideration of C, G, ... to the judgement H, the consid-
eration of F,l, ... to the judgement K etc., and finally the consideration
of H, K, L, ... to the judgement M, as the goal for the sake of which
all the others were presented, then we may not only call the collection
of all the propositions A, B, C, D, E, ... , K, L, ... a proof of M, but
we may also call the propositions A,B, ... a proof of C, and D,E, ...
a proof of F, etc. It is clear from this how one proof may include many
others within itself. Such proofs may be called complex, and the oth-
ers simple. The propositions A, B, D, E, G, ... in a proof that are not
themselves furnished with proofs (at least not in the course of the proof
in question) are called the starting point (principia, &pxw), presupposi-
tions, premises, or assumptions of our proof; the other propositions, such
as C, F, ... can be called intermediate propositions; while M is called 459
the conclusion. Finally, the degree of confidence that a proof is capable
of confeITing on its conclusion if the requisite attention is given to it I
call the power of conviction of the proof. A proof that has such power
is called convincing, true, correct, tenable, binding, etc., while one that
has no such force is called untenable, false, incorrect, etc. It is easy to
see that one and the same proof may be convincing for one of us and not
for another. Here I shall only deal with how we must direct our inquiries
in order to determine whether a given proof has a force of conviction for
ourselves. In order to discover truth, that is, to aITive at the goal at which
the present instruction aims, it suffices if we know whether and to what
degree we may rely on a given proof; and the attributes a proof must have
for other reasons if it is to be included in a treatise will not be dealt with
here. In order to decide whether a proof before us justifies our trust in
a proposition M which is its conclusion, we must investigate two things:
303
 THE ART OF DISCOVERY§. 370.
first, whether we may accept with an appropriate degree of confidence
all the propositions A,B,D,E, ... that are used without proof (i.e., as
mere presuppositions), and then whether the proposition M stands in ei-
ther a relation of deducibility or ground-consequence to A, B, D, E, ... or
some part of them, or at least whether these confer a degree of probability
upon M that surpasses doubtfulness. Understandably, we cannot under-
take either of these investigations unless we have a clear awareness not
only of the individual propositions of which the proof consists, but also
of all the kinds of inferences that are used. This, then, is the first thing
we must do if we are to examine a proof. We must raise to a quite clear
460 consciousness all of the propositions of which the proof consists, even
those that may perhaps be tacitly passed over in the verbal presentation,
and to this end express them in precise words, afterwards doing the same
for the inferences. In order to improve the chances of our investigation,
we must also be aware of the most common errors that are committed in
producing proofs, sometimes deliberately and with foreknowledge, and
comparing the proof with these, check to see whether it commits any of
them. Since, in addition, there are indicators the presence of which allows
us to detect the incoITectness either of a premise or an inference without
knowing exactly where the flaw lies, it will also be advantageous to learn
and apply these indicators. For it is certainly an advantage to learn that a
given proof is untenable, even when we do not know where the fault lies.
Closer examination will in most cases reveal just where that is. Indeed,
it may be useful to undertake the last-mentioned investigation before the
others. For if we have discovered that the proof has one of the indicators,
we already know that it is faulty, and thus will work with even greater
assurance and diligence to discover where the flaw lies. In this case, we
will not be annoyed when we consider the propositions and inferences
both individually and in combination, nor when we check the whole pro-
cedure for the various flaws that may be committed in proofs until we
have discovered the problem. But since there are no indicators that allow
us easily to detect the presence of an eITor in evet:Y case, it still remains
possible that a proof is flawed even when we cannot detect this by apply-
461 ing these indicators. Thus if we want to proceed with assurance, we will
have to undertake the examination we just described. Finally, concerning
the degree of confidence with which we may accept a conclusion on ac-
count of a proof, provided that all our examination has revealed no flaws
that would destroy its power of conviction, we may say that this degree
becomes smaller, all other things being equal, the greater the number of
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Particular Rules
premises and inferences employed, since each of these runs the risk of
an error, which can be lessened to some degree through testing, but never
completely removed. If some of the inferences are merely probable, then
we must take the risk of error all the more seriously. Supposing that the
degrees of probability that the individual assumptions A, B, C, ... have are
=a.,~' y, ... and the degree of probability with which the conclusion Mis
deducible from them is = µ, then the degree of probability that the given
proof confers on M may never be assumed to be boTeater than a.. G · '( .... \u
I
(§161). The degree of confidence can be increased, however, if we find
that in the proof several mutually independent grounds speak in favour of
the truth of the proposition. For if the degrees of probability that the indi-
vidual grounds would confer upon the proposition are x,y, z, ... , then
the probability they confer together is roughly = . . ( x'Y"z.... .
. . . . . . x·_"Z .... + l-x)(I-y)(l-z)· ..
Fmally, It IS worth recallmg that the exammatlon of proofs is one of those
problems for our reflection that often results (according to the rule of
§325) in our learning of truths that we did not seek, and not only when a
proof is correct, but also when it is not. For even in a flawed proof many
new truths, or new combinations of known truths, or new, useful forms of
inference may occur, and even the faults that one encounters may teach 462
us something; and if the proof does not prove what it is supposed to, it
may still serve to prove something else.
Note. The words proof and confirmation, in the senses that common
usage gives them, are only applied in cases where something is actually
accomplished, either someone is brought to accept a proposition as true
after appropriate consideration, or else his confidence in its truth is ac-
tually raised. If neither of these things is accomplished, one often says
that nothing has been proved. As unobjectionable as this way of speaking
may be, it is more in line with the aims of science to connect a somewhat
wider concept with these words, as we do when we speak of unsuccess-
ful proofs, or even of proofs that make the conclusion more rather than
less doubtful. Some thought they had defined this concept merely by say-
ing that to prove a proposition merely means to demonstrate or deduce it
from others (see, e.g., KIESEWETTER, p. 489; SCHULZE, § 110; FRIES,
p. 311; TWESTEN, § 128); but clearly the entire concept to be defined is
contained in the words "demonstrate" and "deduce". In KRUG's Worter-
buch, a proof is defined as the presentation of the grounds of a judgement.
If this were correct, the grounds spoken of could not be objective, and the
judgement would have to be not something already formed, but some-
thing to be formed in the future.
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 THE ART OF DISCOVERY§. 371. Particular Rules

§.371.* one wanted to prove to us that it is permissible to hate one's neighbour

by saying that permission to do this had been granted through a special
The most commonflmvs ofproofs; a) with respect to matter divine revelation. For in order to prove the latter, we would have to prove
the former, that hating one's neighbour is permissible, and indeed morally
As the instruction that I just gave for the examination of a given proof
aood. (c) A special kind of backwardness occurs when the proposition to
only covered the force of conviction that it had for us ourselves, so too
be proved itself occurs in the proof, i.e., figures as one of its assumptions.
I shall now deal with the flaws of a proof that can destroy or weaken its
This offence is so flagrant that we need to do some explaining in order to
power of conviction for us. Such flaws may either lie in the nature of the
understand how anyone could be guilty of it. The first circumstance that
463 propositions used as assumptions in the proof, or in other features, e.g.,
makes this understandable is the use of signs, which often permit us to
in the order of these propositions. It is customary to consider the assump-
express one and the same proposition in quite different ways. In this way,
tions used in a proof as its matter, and everything else as its form. But
we get the deceptive appearance of having several truths before us, when
according to §309, if certain kinds of inference that are used in a proof are
really there is just one truth said in different words. But if we believe that
faulty, they must have been tacitly assumed by the inventor of the proof,
two different expressions of the same proposition are different proposi-
if they do not appear explicitly. Thus if we count all the tacitly thought
tions, it is no wonder if we use one of them, perhaps the one that is more
propositions among the presuppositions of a proof, we must also count
common and hence appears to be a better-known truth, to prove the other.
the kinds of inference used in a proof, at least when these are faulty, as
A second circumstance is that many proofs consist of long sequences of
belonging to its matter. But since there is an essential difference between
inferences, and most of us have the bad habit of putting off the proof of
an incorrect rnle of inference and other incorrect propositions, the former
propositions we need right now to a later time. When, finally, we come
being far more dangerous, I will permit myself to distinguish two kinds
to carry out the promised proof of a proposition we applied earlier, we
of proposition belonging to the matter of a proof: those that treat of a kind
may well find that we-looking around in our stock of already proved
of inference used in the proof, and the others. After these preliminaries,
propositions in order to find out which of these can serve to prove t.he 465
we may say:
proposition before us-hit upon a proposition that was only proved with
1) The first material fault of a proof consists in its employing as pre-
the help of that very proposition, and yet do not notice this, since we do
suppositions propositions that either cannot be accepted at all, or else not
not keep in mind the grounds supporting every one of our claims. Since
accepted with a sufficient degree of confidence. This may be called the
the demonstration of one proposition from another is called moving from
flaw of untenable presuppositions or assumptions (petitio principii). If
one to the other, and thus likened to a movement, a proof that somewhere
such an assumption is true while its truth is not evident to us, and if it
assumes the very proposition to be proved can be looked upon as mov-
is possible to convince ourselves of its truth by directing our attention
inab throuah
b
a number of places before coming back to where one started.
to other propositions, then the proof should not be discarded; rather, one
Thus one describes a kind of circle here, which is why the above flaw
may remove the flaw simply by adding a few propositions that demon-
is called that of circular proof Such a circle occurs, for example, when
strate the assumption in question. Such an emendation cannot be ex-
we attempt to prove that our eyes do not show us things upside do~n (as
pected, however, if (a) the assumption is obviously false. For nothing can
some believe), but rather as they actually are, by calling on the expenence
be concluded from false presuppositions. We might call this the flaw of
we have when we find that what our eyes show to be higher, we touch by
false assumptions. (b) A second case occurs when we know of no way to
reaching higher. For we only infer that we are reaching higher because
464 demonstrate the proposition that is assumed in the proof other than deriv-
we see this, and accordingly only based on the assumption that if our eyes
ing it from the proposition to be proved. In this case, we would already
show us something to be higher, it actually is.
have to hold the proposition to be proved to be true in order to find the
2) It happens all too often that starting from assumptions a conclusion
proof convincing, and thus the proof would be entirely dispensable. We
is deduced that in fact is neither strictly deducible from these assumptions
shall say of a proof with this flaw (which the ancients called uoL"t:pov
nor stands to them in a relation of consequence to ground, but rather is
np6L"t:pov) that it has things backwards. This fault would occur if some-

306 307
 THE ART OF DISCOVERY§. 371.
deducible only through probable inferences. This mistake, which on the
above view only occurs when a faulty rule of inference is thought, if only
tacitly, is usually called a non sequitur. The following are a few notewor-
thy kinds of non sequiturs: (a) If the assumptions someone starts from
466 in order to prove the desired conclusion are not suitable for that purpose,
then there must have been some reason that led him to begin with these
propositions. This reason often lies in the fact that a proposition that is
similar to the proposition to be proved and easily confused with it does in
fact follow from these assumptions. If we seek to prove a given proposi-
tion, and to this end combine all kinds of propositions in order to see if
it follows from any of them, it may easily happen that we first hit upon a
conclusion that is very similar to the proposition to be proved, and then
immediately mistake the former for the latter. We are all the less likely
to notice our mistake if our attention is flagging due to the investiga-
tions we have been conducting, or if we eagerly desire to have finally
found a proof for our proposition. It can also be the case that someone
who discovers a proof knows full well that the indicated premises do not
demonstrate the proposition to be proved, but only a similar one, and yet
presents his proof anyway, in the hope that we will not notice the con-
fusion. This mistake can quite appropriately be called that of confusion.
Prof. KRUG gives the quite suitable name of a displacement of the point
at issue; and, depending upon whether it is done wittingly or not, either
a mere misjudgement or a distortion of the point. We have an example in
the well known proof through which the friends of materialism attempt to
prove that our thoughts and sensations take place in the body, since these
are changed by movements in the body. For this only shows that these
changes are dependent upon the body; it is another thing altogether to say
that they take place in the body. (b) In the special case where the proposi-
tion that really does follow from the given assumptions is only similar to
the proposition to be proved because it is subordinate to it, i.e., deducible
from it, though the latter is not deducible from the former (§ 157), one
usually says that the proof demonstrates less or too little, because we say
467 that a proposition subordinate to another states less than it does. Thus
one proves too little if, in attempting to prove the well-known geomet-
rical theorem of the equality of vertical angles, one merely shows that
these angles have the same magnitude. (c) Every proof wherein a univer-
sal conclusion is demonstrated by grounds that hold only under special
conditions also belongs here. This mistake is called inferring from the
particular to the universal, or from the conditioned to the unconditioned.
308
Particular Rules
Thus in EUCLID'S Elements (I, 23) the possibility of an angle equal to a
given angle is proven only under the condition that it occupies the same
plane as the given angle; but later, e.g., XI, 20, he assumes the possibil-
ity of such an angle in any other plane. (d) A non sequitur also occurs
in proofs which commit the error of incomplete enumeration or induc-
tion, i.e., those in which a certain attribute b is stated of all A, while the
premises only show that this is the case for some of them, either because
one doesn't know that there are other A, or knows this but, having found
the attribute bin so many A, he wishes to deduce not with mere probabil-
ity but with complete certainty that it is found in all. This mistake may
be called that of concluding all from many. It is committed by those who,
starting from the perception that all the larger organic bodies we observe
to come to be do so through procreation from similar bodies, draw the
conclusion that all do. (e) Just as people often take propositions to be
equivalent when in fact they stand in a relation of subordination, so too
people often mistakenly think that compatible propositions are incompat-
ible, and incorrectly infer the falsity of one of them from the truth of the
other. Thus when it is shown that various teachings of a religion arose
through error, some people conclude that this religion cannot be a di-
vine revelation. (f) Propositions that are merely contrary are occasionally 468
taken to be contradictory, and thus people permit themselves to infer the
truth of one from the falsity of the other, which is not admissible. Thus
people often conclude that someone denies something merely because he
does not affirm it. (g) When someone undertakes to prove a proposition
stating that something is greater or smaller than it should be for a given
purpose, it often happens that assumptions are used from which it only
follows that the object is quite large or small with respect to some other
measure. This might be called a confusion of measures. This occurs, for
instance, when people try to prove that there is more evil in the world
than is consistent with God's perfection merely by reckoning how much
evil is found on earth. For the most that follows from this is that this evil
represents a considerable quantity in relation to our sensory capacities; it
in no way shows that this quantity is incompatible with God's perfection.
The same mistake is committed when people try to prove that Christian-
ity is not divinely revealed by pointing to the small amount of good it
has been able to produce so far. (h) Often many grounds are adduced in
a proof of a proposition, which are all so constituted that none can deny
that individually they do not suffice to convince, yet it is expected that
all of them together will produce complete certainty. Now if the degree
309
 THE ART OF DISCOVERY §. 371. Particular Rules

of probability that a partial ground has by itself is < ~, ~

then by addino-b erthal (Reutlingen, 2nd. ed., 1801, p. 54). For his objection to what he
more such grounds, the probability of the proposition to be proved will calls relative inferences, by means of which opposed propositions can be
be lowered rather than raised; while if it is > ~, the probability indeed proved with apparently equal right, applies to this kind of inference. "Our
increases, but it can never attain complete certainty in this way. Many oratorical fantasy," he says here, "takes the difference between more and
theologians commit this error when they attempt to give their opinion the less to be that between something and nothing." And so it is; for in these
authority of a teaching authenticated by the word of God by producing a proofs one concludes from propositions that are only relative, and only
469 pile of citations from Scripture, when they must admit that each of these hold with respect to a given measure, to propositions stating something
texts could be interpreted differently. (i) In proofs which are drawn from utterly absolute.
experience it often happens that people conclude from the fact that they
perceive two phenomena A and B either at the same time, or one shortly §.372.*
after the other, that they stand in a causal relation. Yet in order to jus-
tify such an inference, we would have to have observed these phenomena b) With respect to form
many times in the same temporal relation, and also observed that when
~ften, the propositions which form the basis of a proof as its assump-
the phenomenon that is claimed to be the effect is absent, we must have
tions may all be true, and recognised as such by us, and in addition stand
observed circumstances in most if not all cases that sufficiently explain
to the proposition to be proved in a genuine relation of deducibility, and
the absence of this effect. One may call this an unwarranted inference
nevertheless the proof fails to produce the required conviction simply be-
from experience or the surreptitious eJ.perience; in the language of the
cause its form is deficient. In a proof presented in language, this flaw may
Scholastics it was called the Sophisma non causae ut causae or post hoc,
occur (1) because the expressions chosen are obscure, so that we cannot
ergo propter hoc. Physicians frequently make this error when, perceiving
clearly gather from them what the author actually claimed, what reasons
that the patient improves following treatment, they describe the treatment
he had for his conclusions, etc. (2) The flaw may also lie in the fact that
as the cause of the improvement. (k) Just as people, in setting out to prove
the appropriate order is not observed, e.g., when the conclusions are too
one proposition, only succeed in proving a similar one, so too, in setting
far removed from their premises. Or again (3) it may lie in the fact that
out to refute a proposition, i.e., show its falsity (or the truth of its denial),
the conclusion that the author claims to follow from given premises only
people often only manage to refute a similar proposition. This flaw is
follows by a form of inference that is not evident for us, since only af-
called the ignoratio elenchi; if committed wittingly, it is called a mutatio
ter reflection and the mediation of several simpler forms of inference are
controversiae. (1) Another flaw that occurs with refutations is that instead
we able to recognise this relation of deducibility. Since this flaw arises
of showing the falsity of a given proposition, people are content to make
through the omission of propositions that should have been included, one 47 l
it ridiculous or improbable. (m) Often people think they have refuted a
may call it a gap or a leap in demonstration. (4) The opposite problem,
proposition when in fact they have only discovered the untenability of its
that of mixing in propositions (be they assumptions or conclusions) that
customary proof.
are completely dispensable for the derivation of the conclusion, can also
Note. Generally speaking, faulty inferences are counted as belonging
hinder conviction. Such proofs might be criticised as redundant or over-
to the form rather than the matter. Thus in KIESEWETTER'S L., §319,
loaded.
we read: the form of the proof lies in the consequence. I would have
Note. The way I have understood the concept of a leap (no. 3) is
nothing against this, only it would then be necessary to give different
the same as that adopted by others, e.g., REUSCH, BAUMGARTEN, REI-
470 definitions, and not count all the propositions occurring (expressly or tac-
MARUS, KANT. Some, e.g., KRUG (§ 133, note 4), however, only want
itly) in a proof as belonging to its matter, but rather only those that are not
to recognise a leap in cases where one passes from one proposition to
rules of inference. The flaw discussed in no. 2, g has not, to my knowl-
another that does not follow. Accordingly, a leap would be the same
edge, been mentioned in previous treatises of logic, but another author,
thing as an invalid inference. It seems to me, however, that my way of
the much-loved JEAN PAUL RICHTER, pointed it out in his Campan-
drawing the distinction is favoured by common usage, since by a leap we

310 311
 THE ART OF DISCOVERY §. 373, 374.
understand a kind of movement in which certain intermediate places are
not touched. The aims of science also require this meaning, since logic
must certainly warn us against the mistake of leaving out intermediate
propositions when these are necessary for a proof's power of conviction.
§.373.*
Various indicators of the incorrectness of a proof
a) if the conclusion is false
Since we only call a proof convincing if all the assumptions it makes are
true and in addition the proposition adduced as the conclusion stands to
the former in a relation of consequence to ground or of deducibility, it
is obvious that the conclusion of a correct proof must itself always be
true. Thus if we discover that the conclusion a proof attempts to bring
472 us to is false, we may certainly infer that the proof is untenable. Here
it is obvious that we may not claim that the conclusion is false unless
the grounds for its falsity are, taken together, obviously more probable
than the grounds in favour of it, including those which occur in the proof
under examination. Accordingly, one way of examining a proof is to see
whether we can see the falsity of its conclusion. It is well known that it is
often easier to convince oneself of the falsity of a (universal) proposition
than it is to convince oneself of its truth, since a single case where the
proposition does not hold suffices to prove the former. Thus one should
look for such examples, that is, for clearly false things that would follow
from the proposition. Thus the proof of the proposition that no synthetic
judgement may be formed concerning things in themselves must be quite
defective, since the proposition itself is false; indeed, it is itself a synthetic
judgement concerning things in themselves.
§.374.*
b) {f the proof proves too much
Often the proposition to which we are led in a proof is true, or at least
we are not able to show its falsity beforehand, yet we can show that from
the assumptions and forms of inference something obviously false is de-
ducible. In this case, too, we are justified in declaring the given proof un-
tenable, i.e., that either among the assumptions or among the forms of in-
ference employed, there is something incorrect. For if all the assumptions
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Particular Rules
were true, and all the forms of inference correct, a proposition deduced
from such assumptions using such forms of inference (either immediately, 473
or else with the addition of other decidedly true assumptions and correct
forms of inference) could not possibly be false. Now since any proof
from which we may deduce something false in the way described must
be untenable, we may also say, conversely, that any proof that is unten-
able must allow us to deduce something false. For if a false assumption
is made, then-since it is well-known that from any false proposition in-
numerably many others are deducible, and that anything deducible from
a part of the given assumptions must be considered deducible from them
all, since one may not assume that they conflict-it is beyond doubt that
something false may be deduced from such a proof. But if an incorrect
form of inference is used, i.e., if the proposition Mis represented as stand-
ing in the relation of deducibility to certain other propositions A, B, C, ...
when in fact it does not, then it must be permissible to count the rule of
the inference, expressed in words, as one of the premises of the proof. If
the rule is false, then it is possible to deduce something false from it as
well, namely, by specifying the variable ideas i,j, ... so as to transform
the propositions A,B,C, ... and Minto others A',B',C', ... and M' such
that A',B',C', ... are all true and and M' false. Admittedly, it does not
follow from this that we will always be able to deduce an obviously false
proposition from an untenable proof in the way described (i.e., from its
own premises and its own forms of inference). Nonetheless, we may ex-
pect to succeed in this in many cases, especially if we take the trouble to
make several attempts. We may thus recommend as a particularly useful
means of detecting untenable proofs that one see whether from the very 474
propositions and kinds of inference used in a proof it is possible to de-
duce a decidedly false proposition (either immediately, or else with the
aid of other decidedly true propositions and decidedly correct forms of
inference). An example where this indicator of untenability is easily per-
ceived is the well-known proof whereby the opponents of Christian reve-
lation wish to show that mankind has no need of this revelation, because
if we did, it would already have to be universally known. In order to show
that this inference is incorrect, we need only inquire whether there is any
know ledge that no one would deny to be necessary for the human race,
and yet which is, like Christianity, not universally acknowledged. The ex-
ample of natural religion occurs to us immediately, since its necessity for
mankind is acknowledged in precisely the same sense that the necessity
of revelation is claimed, even though natural religion is only found in the
313
 THE ART OF DISCOVERY§. 375.
appropriate purity and completeness in a few people. Thus we see that
the above proof for the dispensability of revelation must be flawed, since,
if it were correct, we could claim the dispensability of natural religion on
equal grounds. A proof that has this indicator of incorrectness, i.e., one
from whose premises and forms of inference something decidedly false
can be deduced, is usually said to prove too much. In this expression,
prove does not mean to convince someone of the truth of a proposition,
but rather that a proposition is deducible from the assumptions follow-
ing the kinds of inference used; by too much, we mean something false.
Yet people go further, and say "that a proof that proves too much, proves
nothing at all." Here "prove" is used in its proper sense, so that the en-
tire saying means that a proof from whose premises, using the very forms
475 of inference employed, one may deduce something false procures no con-
viction for the proposition it is supposed to prove. From this paraphrase it
is obvious that one is not justified in saying that a proof proves too much
simply because it proves more than intended. For to prove more sim-
ply means to begin from assumptions and make inferences from which a
proposition follows that says more than the proposition proved, i.e., from
which the latter is deducible without the former being deducible from
the latter. Thus one who proves more by the same token also proves the
lesser conclusion than he set out to prove. One can only say that he has
proved too much, and hence has proved nothing, if a false proposition fol-
lows from his premises according to his inferences. Proofs that are said
to prove too little are another thing altogether. By this one means (§371,
no. 2, b) proofs from whose assumptions there only follows a proposition
stating less than the proposition to be proved. Thus if one claims this as
the conclusion, one must make use of an incorrect rule of inference, and
hence might also have derived many other false propositions following
the same rule. It may be claimed, accordingly, that all proofs that prove
too little also prove too much in a certain respect.
§.375.*
c) If it doesn't use all the conditions
If a certain idea a that occurs in the conclusion of a given proof cannot
be omitted or even exchanged with another idea a if the proposition is to
remain true, but a either does not occur at all in the premises or else only
occurs in places where it can be replaced by a without affecting the truth
of the premises, and if the kinds of inference are such that the idea a may
314
Particular Rules
be considered variable in them, i.e., if a does not occur in the general
form of this kind of inference, then we may certainly conclude that the 476
proof is incorrect. For if it were correct, i.e., all the assumptions were
true and the forms of inference valid, then if we omitted the idea a or else
replaced it everywhere with a, then all the assumptions would remain true
and the inference forms valid. The first follows because the idea a either
does not occur in the assumptions at all, or else only in propositions that
remain true if a is replaced by a. The second does as well, because a is
considered variable in the inferences that are used. But if the idea a is
omitted or replaced by a in all propositions (including the conclusion),
the conclusion becomes false and hence there must be an error either in
the proof (namely, in the propositions we altered) or in the kinds of infer-
ence used. Since in the case considered here the truth of the proposition
to be proved depends upon the condition that one may not omit the idea
a, or replace it with a, one may say that the flaw of the proof is that it
does not make use of all the conditions of the truth of the proposition.
That is, the fact that the idea a either does not occur at all in the assump-
tions, or else only in propositions where it can be replaced by a without
affecting truth may be looked upon as a failure to observe this condition.
Thus a special means for discovering the incorrectness of a given proof
is to investigate in the way described whether all the conditions of the
truth of the proposition to be proved are used. For this purpose we must
consider each idea a contained in the proposition to be proved that cannot
be omitted from the proposition or exchanged with a certain other idea a
without affecting its truth, and investigate whether it appears in the given
assumptions in such a way that these would no longer remain true if a 477
were omitted or replaced with a. If we find even a single idea a for which
this is not the case, i.e., which either does not appear at all in the premises
or else only in propositions that would remain true if it were omitted or
replaced by a, and if the inferences used in the proof are also such that
a may be considered variable, if there is perhaps no kind of inference in
whose form the idea a occurs as a constituent, then we have discovered
that the proof is incorrect. The most common case where the error of
which I have spoken occurs is when the subject-idea of the proposition
to be proved is of the form [Something] (a + b + c + d + ···), and one of
the ideas a, b, c, d, ... , which cannot be omitted if this proposition is to
remain true, either does not occur at all in the premises or else not in the
right way. In this special case, one may say that the given proof is too
wide, since it may be extended from [Something]( a+ b + c + d + ···) to
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 THE ART OF DISCOVERY§. 376, 377.
the wider idea [Something] (b + c + d + ·· ·). Even the writings of mathe-
maticians contain proofs that betray their incorrectness in this way. Thus
EUCLID (Elem., I, 22) states in the form of a problem the proposition that
from any three straight lines, any two of which are together greater than
the third, a triangle may be constructed. The condition that any two of
these lines are together greater than the third is a well-known condition
for the truth of this proposition. But as it is not even touched upon in
the proof, we see that the latter must be flawed. We have another exam-
ple with the well-known theorem concerning the sum of the peripheral
angles in any convex polygon. For even though the condition of convex-
ity, which is essential to the truth of the proposition, is mentioned in the
proof, this does not occur in a place where something is inferred which
478 could not have been said had the condition not been mentioned at all.
§.376.*
d) If it calls upon the experience at the wrong place, or scorns it
I have already noted in §369 that there are truths which cannot be proved
by experience, unless this were to take the form of an appeal to authority
or testimony; and that there are also other truths which cannot be inferred
from conceptual truths alone. If we nevertheless find that someone refers
to experience in the proof of a proposition of the first kind, or scorns all
reference to experience in the proof of a proposition of the second kind,
wishing to decide the matter from concepts alone, or at least not provid-
ing a basis of the kind of experiences which alone could lead to a decision
here, then we know in advance that the proof must be faulty. If, for ex-
ample, we read that someone intends to prove the principle of sufficient
reason by experience, or the absurdity of the homeopathic principle by a
priori reasons, we may know in advance that both proofs are faulty.
§.377.
Examination of some famous sophisms from the writings of logicians
From the very beginning of logic among the Greeks, it has been consid-
ered important to teach the c01Tect method of examining proofs to dis-
cover their flaws not merely by presenting dry rules, but also by provid-
ing a considerable number of examples invented for the sake of practise.
Perhaps it will not be unwelcome to the reader to find the most notewor-
thy of these examples presented and examined here. If someone thinks
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Particular Rules
that such inquiries hold nothing worth knowing for him, he may skip this
section. In order to avoid misunderstanding, I must point out that my 479
purpose in presenting and analysing these examples is not to protect the
reader from the danger of believing what is proved in these fallacious ar-
guments. Rather, they were invented precisely in order to make it obvious
at the first glance that the conclusion is false, and hence the proof incor-
rect. It is merely a matter of teaching beginners how these mistakes may
be pointed out; and such examples are all the better the more undeniable
it is that there is an error, even though it may not be obvious where the
error lies. ARISTOTLE, who wrote a special book on this subject (rrspl
oocpta"Ltxwv E:Myxwv 1) classifies all false proofs or (on the assumption
that the proofs were produced with bad intentions) sophisms under two
genera: those in which the deception arises from the verbal expressions
chosen (E:1'syxot mxpa "L~v At~tv 2 ) and others, where this is not the case
(s1'syxot s~w "L~c; M~sc0c; 3 ). This classification is quite correct; only one
should not forget, as ARISTOTLE himself remarks, that one and the same
sophism may belong in both genera. He mentions six kinds of sophisms
that are based on language, three of which (namely, the 6µc.wuµ(cx, the&µ-
cpt~o1'(cx, and the rrpoo06(cx4 ) I need not take the time to explain. For who
would be unable to solve a sophism like the following: Mus syllaba est,
Mus autem caseum rodit; Syllaba ergo ca.sewn rodit? 5 SENECA' s well-
justified rebuke (Ep., XLVIII) was only meant to apply to such vulgar
sophisms. The other three kinds (the auvr:lsmc;, 6tcx(psmc; and the ox~µcx
/,€~t:u)c; 6 ) are more artful.
1) For A., a a6vHsmc; is present when an expression, which must be
taken in a divided sense if the proposition is to be true, is taken in another
sense, the so-called composite sense, as in the following argument: "If an 480
eye were necessary for seeing, then it would have to be either the left or
the right, for we have no other. But neither the left nor the right eye is
necessary for seeing, since we can see without the former and we can see
without the latter, as anyone can easily establish through an experiment.
Thus it is not necessary to have an eye in order to see." The deception
in this inference stems in my opinion merely from the fact that a pair of
1On sophistical rejittations.
2 deception through the expression
3 deception independent of the expression
4 equivocation, amphiboly, and accent
5 Rat is a syllable. A rat eats cheese. Therefore a syllable eats cheese.
6 composition, division, and form of expression
317
 THE ART OF DISCOVERY§. 377.
different thoughts, one of which occurs in the major premise, the other in
the minor, are stated using the same expression "either or". This creates
the illusion that the three propositions have the following form: If A were
the case, B would have to be the case. But B isn't the case. Hence, A
isn't the case. And this would be correctly inferred. But if we express
the meaning in which the major and minor premise must be taken more
distinctly, it appears that these propositions do not correspond to the in-
dicated form. In the major premise the "either or" merely indicates that
some eye or other, the right or the left, no matter which, must be present
if one is to see. But in the minor premise the denial of the either-or, or
the neither-nor, has the sense that the right eye is not necessary for sight,
and neither is the left, a claim that is entirely compatible with the former.
I will not devote much time to the question of whether the sense in which
the either-or occurs in the major premise might be called composite, and
the sense in which it occurs in the minor might be called divided. In-
stead, I shall show how the incorrectness of the inference may be seen
even more clearly if the propositions are expressed in a way which makes
their logical constituents more evident. The major premise would have
to be expressed roughly as follows: "If an eye were necessary for sight,
then the idea of a man who has no right eye and no left eye, and yet sees,
481 would be objectless." The minor, however, would run as follows: "Each
of the following two ideas is objectual: that of a man who has no right eye
and yet sees, and that of a man who has no left eye and yet sees." Now it
is obvious that the two propositions are not connected in such a way that
the conclusion can be deduced from them. The minor claims something
completely different from what the consequent of the major denies. The
former concerns one idea, the latter two; and the idea that is claimed to
be objectless in the consequent of the major is of a completely different
sort than the two said to be objectual in the minor. The latter two ideas
may well have objectuality even if the former, which is far more com-
plex, is objectless. The consequent of the major and the minor are thus
compatible, and hence one may not infer here in modo tollente. A. also
counts the following inference as belonging to this kind: "Many a very
good man is a bad poet; thus many a good man is a bad man." The error
in this inference consists merely in the fact that the attribute of badness,
which is ascribed to the poetic ability in the premise, is applied in the
conclusion to his humanness, and indeed, following the customary usage
of this expression, to his moral character.
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Particular Rules
2) According to A., a 6tdpwtc; is present when an expression that
must be understood in the composite sense if the proposition is to be true
is taken in the divided sense, as in the following argument: "Whoever has
one, two, and three Thaler, has six Thaler altogether; thus anyone who
has only three Thaler has six." Neither premise is expressed precisely
enough. If the major premise is to be true, it must be taken in a sense
which is more distinctly expressed as follows: "Whoever has a single
Thaler, and in addition to this a sum of two Thaler, and in addition to
these yet another sum of three Thaler, and beyond this no other single
Thaler nor any sum of several Thaler, has in total a sum of six Thaler." 482
The minor, for its part, if it is to remain true, must be interpreted to mean:
"Whoever has three Thaler, has in this sum a part which contains two,
as well as a single Thaler." It is now obvious that the above conclusion
does not follow from the combination of these two propositions. Another
example is: "Two and three are even and odd. But two and three are five;
hence five is even and odd." If the major premise is to remain true, it
must be understood to mean "The sum of the numbers two and three is
a sum of an even and an odd number," while the minor must be taken to
mean "The sum of the numbers two and three is equivalent to the number
five." The most that follows from this is the conclusion that the number
five is equivalent to a certain sum of an even and an odd number, which
is certainly true.
3) A. defines a sophism m:xpi:X LO ax~µcx L~c; MC:E:(0c; 1 as one that one
obtains OLCXV LO fl~ WULO (0CTWJL(0c; E:pf1YJVE:UYJLCXL, 2 as in the argument:
"You are not what I am; I am a man. Hence you are not a man." The ma-
jor premise "You are not who I am" does not mean "Every attribute that
belongs to me must be denied of you," but rather "Not every attribute that
belongs to me also belongs to you." If the first interpretation were admis-
sible, then the minor "I am a man" would certainly justify our drawing the
conclusion. But if the major is taken in the second sense, the whole argu-
ment falls apart. From this, one will know how to resolve the sophism of
MENEDEMUS (in Diogen. Laert., II, 18, no. 2): "Generally beneficial is
not the same as good; thus the generally beneficial is not good." Another
sophism that ARISTOTLE reckons to be of this sort is: "What someone
had before but no longer has, he has lost. If someone has ten marks at
the beginning of a game and loses one, then he formerly had ten marks
and no longer has ten marks. Thus someone who has ten marks at the 483
1which depends on the form of expression
2 when what is not the same is expressed in the same form
319
 THE ART OF DISCOVERY§. 377.
beginning of a game and loses one, has lost ten marks." Here only the
major premise is incorrect. For we do not always say of someone who
previously had something and now no longer has it that he has lost it;
rather, when speaking of objects that have a quantity, it is customary to
understand by loss only the difference between the quantity previously
possessed and the quantity that remains, just as by profit we mean only
the difference between the quantity presently possessed and the quantity
one previously had. Thus someone who previously had ten marks but no
longer does, but rather (having lost one) only has nine left would not be
said to have lost ten, but only one mark. Perhaps the sophism reported by
SEXTUS EMPIRICUS also belongs here: "If Socrates died, he must have
done so either while living or when dead. But while he was still living, he
did not die, for someone who is living is not dead. Nor did he die after he
had already finished living; for if he were no longer living, he was already
dead, and a dead man cannot die a second time. Hence Socrates is not yet
dead." Here we should notice that the noun "death" is taken in two senses.
In the first, it means the single, indivisible moment which constitutes the
final limit of life. In this sense, one cannot say that death has a certain
duration, since no moment has a duration. In this sense of death, one can-
not even say that death is a change, since every change consists of parts,
and has a duration. Thus one must say of this moment that as long as a
being still lives, it lies in the future, and if it has ceased to live, it lies in
484 the past. It does not follow from this that this moment cannot also be the
present moment. For this occurs when the being is neither still living nor
has yet ceased to live, but instead ceases to live at this moment. But far
more commonly the word "death" is taken to mean a ce1tain change that
begins at a not completely determinate moment, roughly that at which
the body can no longer perform the most important functions required to
sustain life, and ends with the last moment of life. This meaning is the
basis of the verb "to die", since verbs always designate something that has
a duration. In this sense of the word, when we speak of death we must
ascribe it a duration that begins while the man is still living and ends at
the end-point of his life. Thus we may say that a man begins to die while
he is still living, but stops dying as soon as he ceases to live. Hence in the
above argument the major premise,"If Socrates were already dead, then
either he must have died while he was still living or when he had already
ceased to live," cannot be admitted; for he was not already dead when he
was still living, but instead began to die then; nor did he die when he was
already dead-rather, he had already died. But if the major premise fails,
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Particular Rules
so does the whole argument. The sophism of DIODORUS (from SEXTUS
EMPIRICUS, Hypotop., II, 22) is similar: "If a body moves, it must do so
either in the place where it is, or in a place where it is not. But a body
cannot move in a place where it is; for if it does so, it remains in the same
place, and thus is at rest. Still less can it move in a place where it is not;
for wherever it is to have motion, there it must first be located. Thus it
is impossible for a body to move." In this argument, too, only the major
premise is incorrect. For movement is nothing but a change of place that
lasts a certain time, and so it is absurd to suppose that movement can take 485
place in a single place; rather, one must suppose that there are several
places in which the movement occurs. Thus instead of saying that if a
body moves it moves either in the place where it is or in the place where
it is not, we should say: if a body moves, it moves from one place to an-
other. Another sophism I would include here is the following: "Someone
who says that a man is a living being speaks truly. Someone who says that
a man is a bird thereby says that a man is a living being. Thus someone
who says that a man is a bird speaks truly." The major premise may only
be admitted insofar as it is understood to mean "Someone who says that
man is a living being, and adds nothing to this, says something true." Or,
more succinctly: "The proposition that man is a living being has truth."
If the indicated conclusion were to follow from this, the minor premise
would have to be expressed as follows: "Whoever says that a man is a
bird says that a man is a living being, and adds nothing to this" or "The
two propositions 'a man is a bird' and 'a man is a living being' are equiv-
alent." But this is obviously false, so it is no wonder the conclusion is
also false.
4) A. enumerates seven kinds of sophisms belonging to the second
genus of sophism, those that are based on something other than the ver-
bal expression. The first of these, 11:cxpa -ro ouµ~c:~rixos 1 is supposed to
consist in a confusion of an object with its attributes. The following ar-
gument is of this sort: "Socrates is a man. Koriskos is a man. Hence
Socrates and Koriskos are the same." But this conclusion does not follow
from the premises. For it does not follow from the fact that two objects
have one attribute in common that they share all their attributes, still less
that they are one and the same object, only represented twice. If, on the 486
contrary, someone wanted to argue: "Socrates and Koriskos are differ-
ent; but Socrates is a man. So Koriskos is not a man," we would have
to counter that here the major premise simply means that not every at-
1fal!acies connected with accident
321
 THE ART OF DISCOVERY§. 377.
tribute belonging to Socrates also belongs to Koriskos. But it in no way
follows from this that the property of humanity that belongs to Socrates
must be denied of Koriskos. A. also includes the following argument
here: "A painting that I have bought is my property; but every painting
is a work of art. So a painting I have bought is my work of art." From
the given premises, only this conclusion follows: "A painting that I have
bought is mine and is a work of art" while to say that the painting is my
work means something completely different in common usage. A. also
seems to count the argument usually called Electra or E:yxsxo:/,uµµsvoc; 1
as belonging here too. "You do not know who appears before you with
a veiled face. But it is possible that a man you know quite well appears
before you now with a veiled face. Thus it is possible that you do not
know a man whom you know quite well." It seems to me that the prob-
lem in this sophism arises from the ambiguity of the word know, which
is admittedly taken in several senses in ordinary life. Thus we are often
required to add more specifically whether we mean knowing his name, or
the person himself, or something else. In the above argument, the context
indicates that by knowing a man as spoken of in the minor premise, we
simply mean the mere ability to determine under certain circumstances
(which may not yet obtain)-principally, seeing his face or hearing his
voice-that he is the same person we saw or heard on another occasion.
487 But in the major premise, to know someone means to gather from the
signs currently available to us that he is the same person we saw on some
other occasion; while not to know him means not to be in a position to ex-
press this judgement. But if one inserts these two meanings that the word
"know" has in the premises into the appropriate places in the conclusion,
all the apparent absurdity disappears, and it comes to mean: "A man that
you are able to say under certain circumstances is the same one you saw
or heard on certain other occasions, e.g., when you see his face or the like,
can appear before you in circumstances where you are unable to say this."
The sophism of CHRYSIPPUS more rightly belongs here: "Whoever is in
Megara is not in Athens. Now there are men in Megara. Hence there are
no men in Athens." The major premise "Whoever is in M. is not in A." is
at most true if interpreted to mean that one and the same finite substance
that is in M. at a certain time is not in A. at the same time. But nothing
follows from this that would justify the conclusion that if there are beings
in M. that have the attribute of humanity there cannot be any such beings
in A. To justify this conclusion, we would require the major premises "An
1the veiled one
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Particular Rules
attribute that belongs to certain beings found in M. cannot belong to any
being in A." But this would be quite false, and indeed a self-contradictory
proposition, for the beings in M. and A. would have at least the common
attribute of being beings.
5) A. mentions as a second kind of sophism not dependent on the
mere form of expression the rco:pa -ri.J &rc/,&)c; fi µYj &rcl\Dic; Myc:m~o:t. 1
The tj;c:u56µc:voc; 2 of EUBULIDES, for which PHILETAS OF Kos sought a
solution until he died, is of this sort: "It is possible for a liar to admit that
he is a liar; but if a liar admits that he is a liar, he speaks the truth; but 488
someone who speaks the truth is no liar. Thus it is possible that a liar is
also not a liar." This sophism seems to arise from a false concept of what
a liar is. One presupposes that only someone who either always denies
the truth or at least does so now, deserves to be called a liar. For only on
this understanding would the major premise of the second syllogism be
true: "Someone who speaks the truth" (in some particular case, i.e., in
admitting that he denied the truth in many other cases) "is no liar." But
on this concept the major premise of the first syllogism, "It is possible for
a liar to admit that he is a liar" is no longer tenable. For if only someone
who either always denies the truth or denies the truth right now is to be
called a liar, then it can never happen that a liar admits that he is one. But
if this is to be possible, we must suppose that someone who speaks the
truth sometimes may still deserve to be called a liar (on account of other
statements), and then the second major premise no longer holds. I would
also include here the famous sophism 6 &v-rtcnpscp(0v. 3 Protagoras took
on the student Euathlus on the condition that he would pay Protagoras
a certain sum of money as soon as he won his first case. Since Euath-
lus did not take on any cases after his schooling was over, and did not
pay his teacher, Protagoras brought a suit against him and brought forth
the following argument: "Regardless of whether the judges decide that
Euathlus must pay me, he will be obligated to do so. For if it is decided
he must pay, then he will be obligated to on account of this judgement.
But if the judgement is that he need not pay, he will be obligated to pay
me, because he will have won his first case." Then Euathlus mounted
the stage and claimed that he would in no case be obligated to pay. "For
if the judges free me from the obligation to pay, I will not be obligated 489
1
the case where one expression is used absolutely or in a certain respect [and not in
its proper sense
2 1iar
3 retort or reversal; also known as the boomerang or the lawyer
323
 THE ART OF DISCOVERY§. 377.
to do so on account of the judgement. But if they decide I must pay, I
will not be obligated to because of the contract with Protagoras, since I
have lost my first case." The judges are said to have found the dispute
so complicated that they made no decision.* The astonishing thing here
is the phenomenon that from the same presupposition (E.'s promise that
he would pay as soon as he won his first case) two contradictory conse-
quences (he is both obligated and not obligated to pay) may be deduced
with apparently equal right. But this appearance arises only because the
assumption is taken in a sense according to which it is not only false, but
self-contradictory. When Euathlus declares "I shall consider myself obli-
gated to pay you as soon as I have won my first case" and the expression
"my first case" is understood literally to cover any case, no matter what
its content, provided that it really is his first, then he stated something
self-contradictory. For it is quite possible that his first case will concern
precisely the question of whether he should pay, in which case his dec-
laration would amount to saying "I will consider myself obligated to pay
you at a time when I do not consider myself obligated to pay you, when I
have been released by the court from my obligation to pay you." It is no
wonder that from such a self-contradictory proposition self-contradictory
conclusions can apparently be deduced; for it is only from true premises
that no false conclusions can be deduced, and hence no self-contradictory
ones. But since every pronouncement of a rational being, and still more
490 every declaration that is to serve as the basis of a contract, must at the
very least be required to be not self-contradictory, the judge should have
interpreted the expression "my first case" in E.'s declaration so that it did
not include the question of whether or not he is obligated to pay, in which
case the argumentation of both E. and P. would be overturned, since both
wished the contract extended to cover this case. The decision of the ques-
tion of when and how much the student must pay would then have to be
determined in another way altogether. The famous syllogismus crocodil-
inus (Quinctil. Inst., I, 10) should be judged similarly.
6) The third kind of sophism, E~(J -r~c; M~t:(uc;, 1 is said to be that in
which something other than what was supposed to be proved is actually
demonstrated. A. calls this -ro m:xpa -r~v wu ?:)J:.yxou &yvotav; 2 others
call it E-rt:po(YJ-r~onc;. 3 He cites as an example: "You know that this man
*I have been unable to look at A LEFELD' S article on this sophism.
1independent of the expression
2 fallacy connected with an ignorance of the nature of refutation
3 partiality
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Particular Rules
is called Koriskos; thus you know him. But you don't know that he is
a musician; thus you don't know him. Hence you both know and don't
know the same man." This is easily dealt with. If to know a man means
to know his name, then the first, but not the second premise holds; but if
more is required, the second may hold, but the first will not.
7) No examples worth considering here are given of either the fourth
kind (reap& -ro i!:v &pxfj ),aµ~&vc:tv 1 ), where the proposition to be proved
is assumed in the proof, or of the fifth kind (reap& -rb tre6µc:vov 2 ), where
one infers the existence of the ground from the existence of the conse-
quence. The so-called Achilles, however, namely, the proof that ZENO
OF ELEA and his followers used to dispute the possibility of motion, is
sometimes considered the strongest instance of the latter kind of sophism.
It runs roughly as follows: "If motion were not impossible, then more and 491
less rapid motions must be possible. And if two bodies move in the same
direction, it must be possible for one to overtake the other if its speed is
greater. But the following proof shows that this is impossible. Suppose
that Achilles, the fleet of foot, is one thousand times more rapid than a
snail, and he attempts to overtake this snail, who is 1000 feet ahead of
him. While he runs these 1000 feet, the snail is no longer in the place
he was before (because Achilles' movement requires some time), but
6
has instead crawled 10 0 of the distance Achilles did, i.e., 1 foot. Thus
Achilles has not overtaken him, since he is still one pace ahead. Now
while Achilles runs this foot in order to overtake the snail, the latter has
again moved 101 0 of a foot. Thus Achilles has again failed to ove1iake the
snail, who is idoo
of a foot ahead. But since this inference can be con-
tinually repeated, one sees that Achilles can never overtake the snail, no
matter how long he tries." In this proof, it is correctly demonstrated that
there is an infinite sequence of durations of which it may be claimed that
Achilles has not yet overtaken the snail in any of them, since at the end of
each one he finds himself at the place where the snail was at its beginning.
But the claim that Achilles never (i.e., not after any time, no matter how
long) overtakes the snail does not follow from this. This would follow if
the above infinite sequence of durations was collectively greater than any
given, finite duration. But this need not be the case. For if, e.g., these du-
rations decreased in geometrical progression, so that each successive one
was half the length of its predecessor, then their sum would never surpass
a certain finite quantity, in the above example, 2, since the sum of the 492
1begging the question
2 fallacies connected with the consequent
325
 THE ART OF DISCOVERY§. 377.
1
quantities l + + ~ + k+ 1 ~ + ··· never becomes greater than 2. Now in
order to determine whether or not this case occurs here, we must consider
something that was passed over in silence in the above proof. This is the
question of whether or not the speeds with which Achilles and the snail
move are to be considered constant, or whether only the ratio between the
two speeds is to remain constant, while the motions themselves change,
i.e., become ever slower, so that Achilles always takes the same time to
cover the ground between him and where the snail was, while the snail al-
ways moves one thousandth of this distance in the same time. In the first
case, Achilles will soon catch the snail. For if it takes Achilles a second,
say, to cover a foot, then in 1002 seconds he will already have overtaken
the snail. This would not be the case if one assumed that Achilles and
the snail always move more slowly, e.g., so that the same time elapses
every time, even though ever smaller distances are covered. For then the
infinite number of times required for Achilles to catch the snail would all
be of equal length, and their sum would accordingly surpass any given,
finite time. On this assumption, one would be justified in claiming that
Achilles would never catch the snail, even though he moves a thousand
times faster. But this claim is unobjectionable, and contradicts none of
the theorems of kinematics. Indeed, it is quite comprehensible that one
body can never catch another if their motions are reduced in the measure
of the distance separating them.
8) Among the sophisms of the sixth kind mxpa -r:o µ~ cxfoov (;)C: d(-
493 -r:Lov -r:v0svw, 1 we may count the so-called sophisma pigrum or 6 &pyoc:
Myoc:: 2 "Whatever I may strive to accomplish through my activity must
fall under one of two cases. It must either be a result that will in fact come
to be, or else one that will not. But if it is a result that will in fact come
to be, my activity is dispensable, since the result will come to be even if
I do not act. But if it is a result that will not come to be, my action is
in vain, since the result would not come to be even if I did act. Thus in
either case my activity has no effect, and I am wiser to remain inactive."
In this inference the only incorrect proposition is the one stating that my
activity is dispensable if the result that I strive to attain will in fact come
to be. For it can indeed be the case that my activity is one of the causes
through which it happens that this result is produced. But if this premise
is false, then the conclusion that our activity has no effect in any case is
unproven.
1 2 thehomed one
the fallacy of taking as the cause what is not the cause
2 1azy mind
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Particular Rules
9) The seventh and last kind of sophism -r:b reap& -r:b -r:& rcAd(,) sp0YC·fi-
t1cxw sv rcmdv, or the oocptoµcxw rcoAU(Y)c~osoc: 1 owes its origin to the
customary way of asking questions. This sophism consists in posing a
question that contains a hidden ambiguity, e.g., when someone asks: is
this one and that one a man? If the answer is yes, then one infers "So if
someone kills this one and that one, he has only killed a man, not sev-
eral." Here the answer yes is incorrect, since this one and that one are
not one man, but several. Some also include here the so-called Cornutus
(6 xspcx-r:[vric: 2) which arises from the following question: If you haven't
lost something, must you not still have it? If someone answers yes, he
is asked: have you lost your horns? And when this is denied, the con-
clusion is: so you still have horns. But if he responds no to the second
question, saying that he has lost his horns, one concludes that he formerly
had them. It is obvious that one should not answer yes to the first ques- 494
tion (If you haven't lost something, must you not still have it?). For in
order to say that one still has something one need not only not have lost
it, but must also previously have possessed it. One of the most difficult
sophisms is the Sorites inexplicabilis or acervus 3 (Cicero A cad. quaest.,
II, 16). One raises the question of whether a heap of grains remains a
heap of grains if one removes one grain from it. If we respond yes, then
the following conclusion is drawn: "Insofar as that which remains when
one grain is removed from a heap of grains is still a heap of grain, one
may remove another grain (the second grain removed from the original
heap) and there will still remain a heap. Thus one may also remove an-
other grain from this heap (the third taken from the original heap), and a
heap will still remain. But since this can be repeated endlessly, it follows
that one may remove any number of grains you like from the heap and
still have a heap, which is absurd, provided that the original number of
grains is not infinite." But if we respond no to the above question, we
claim: "There is a heap which ceases to be a heap as soon as one removes
a single grain from it; thus we claim that some number of grains, which
does not constitute a heap, will constitute one if a single grain is added
to it, so that a single grain can produce a heap." And this is also absurd.
The deceptive part of this sophism arises from the indeterminacy of the
concept of a heap, since we are often in doubt as to whether or not a given
multitude of objects should be said to be a heap. With this concept it is
1the fallacy of making several questions into one
3 argumentation by accumulation
327
 THE ART OF DISCOVERY§. 378.
not just a matter of the number of things, but also of other factors: the
things must be spatial objects, lying close to one another, not assembled
according to any rule we can discern, and their number must be so great
495 that we cannot perceive and specify it at a single glance. Thus the same
number of things, even if they are not mrnnged in an orderly way, may or
may not be called a heap depending upon how they lie before us, whether
we are skilled in counting, and a number of other factors. Thus it is in
any case incorrect to say that a heap must remain a heap if one removes
a single grain. It is certainly the case that removing a single grain from a
heap that is very small may result in something we no longer recognise as
a heap. There is in fact nothing absurd in the claim that a single grain can
produce a heap-namely, not on its own, but when added to certain oth-
ers. In the same way, one may claim that an inch taken by itself does not
make an ell, and neither do two or three together, yet an ell results when
a single inch is added to 23 inches. Calvus (Menag. ad Diog., II, 8) and
crescens ratio (Cicero A cad., quaest., II, 28 and 29) are mere variations
of the above argument.
§.378.
XXII. Discovering the ground of a given truth
Once we have convinced ourselves that a given proposition is true, the
question of whether this proposition belongs to the class of truths that
have a ground, and hence are consequences, or instead to the class of
truths that, while being grounds of others, themselves rest on no grounds,
and hence are basic truths, may become one of great scientific impor-
tance. In the first case, one will want to know what the one or several
truths are that form the ground of the given truth. But since I admitted in
§ 198 ff. that the theory of the indicators which allow us to detect a rela-
tion of ground to consequence has not been much elaborated to this point,
496 and indeed that the very concept of this relation remains obscure, it is to
be expected that no satisfying instructions on how to solve this problem
will be forthcoming. Everything I believe myself capable of advancing as
somewhat probable has already been said in §221. From what was said
there it is clear that in order to judge whether a given truth is a basic or
a consequential truth we must know the constituents not only of the truth
in question but also of those truths that are advanced as its grounds. An
analysis of the given proposition that extends to its simple parts, insofar
as we are able to perform it, must be our first business in this problem.
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Particular Rules
Next, we must construct from the parts we have discovered in the propo-
sition M propositions that are simpler or at least not more complex than
M, and also constituted so that Mis deducible from them. If in doing this
we find it necessary to have recourse to concepts not contained in M, we
must seek to reduce their number as far as possible. Only when we have
succeeded in this way in assuring ourselves that the truths A, B, C, D, ...
from which M is deducible, are each simpler or at least no more complex
than M, and taken together constitute a simpler collection than any other
from which M may be deduced may we permit ourselves to look upon
the former as the ground of the latter. Concerning the indication of the
grounds of empirical truths, i.e., discovering the causes of a given effect,
more will be said in the next section.
§.379.
XXIII. The discove1y of causes for given effects
One of the most common and important tasks for human inquiry is the
discovery of causes which produce given effects. According to § 168, I 497
call an object A the cause (either the complete or partial cause) of another
object B if the proposition that A exists forms the (complete or partial)
ground of the proposition that B exists. It follows that, in this sense, ev-
ery cause is an actual thing; properly speaking, a cause is not a substance,
but an attribute or force which resides in a single substance or a collec-
tion of them. But in an extended sense, we give the name of a cause to
an individual or a substance or a collection of them if they possess a cer-
tain force. It is my view that two kinds of cause must be distinguished,
namely, those which do not require any time in order to produce an effect
of finite magnitude, and those which can produce such an effect only in
a finite period of time. An example of the first kind is the creative force
of Goel; for Goel needs no time, no matter how small, in order to produce
a substance; rather, such a substance will exist from eternity if Goel wills
that it should so exist. An example of the second kind is every motive
force which can produce a finite speed only if it has acted through a fi-
nite time. The existence, as well as the attributes of causes of the first
kind, can be demonstrated from concepts alone; hence they are discussed
in a special science, namely, metaphysics. It is not necessary that logic
should give special instructions on how such causes can be discovered,
since the rules are the same as for the discovery of purely conceptual
truths in general. But the same does not hold with respect to causes of
329
 THE ART OF DISCOVERY§. 379.
the second kind, which act in time, and merely produce changes. One
of the reasons is that these causes have a definite magnitude and charac-
ter only at a certain time; hence they cannot be recognised a priori, but
only through perception. We know the nature of the mutual influence of
heavenly bodies only from perception; this influence depends upon their
498 mass and spatial relations, which can and must be different at different
times. The identification of causes which can be recognised only through
perception is of extreme importance. Hence it is reasonable to indicate,
in broad outline, how we must proceed in this matter. But if we are to
investigate the cause of a given change, we must never doubt that there is
such a cause. Common sense itself insists that for each change there must
be a cause which has brought it about, and only very few scholars have
dared to assume the possibility of certain changes without the existence
of a cause which determines them completely; they have done this only in
the single case where those changes are the acts of will of a sentient and
rational being. Hence these philosophers allow us to assume that every
perception has a cause, but we cannot simply suppose that this cause has
another cause and that the second cause has a third and so to infinity. For
if we are forced to explain a certain phenomenon by claiming that a free
act of will of a sentient and rational being was a near or remote cause,
the sequence of causes finds its end at this point since we have arrived at
a cause which itself has no (fully determining) further cause. But in all
other cases, especially where we do not encounter acts of will, we must
assume that every perception has a cause, and that the latter has again a
cause, etc., even if we subscribe to this system of indeterminism. But be-
fore we consider how to discover these causes, we must clearly determine
what is asked for when the discovery of such a cause is desired. Obvi-
ously, nothing can be meant but that we should determine this cause, i.e.,
that we should enumerate its various attributes, especially those which be-
long exclusively to it, or at least which it does not have in common with
499 every other cause. Thus, for example, when someone asks us to indicate
the cause of light, we are supposed to indicate whether the cause lies in a
fluid medium that is situated between the illuminated body and our eye,
which through vibratory motion begins to oscillate, or whether this cause
lies in certain very small bodies that the illuminated body emits in all di-
rections, etc. When we consider how we recognise these attributes, we
can again make the following distinction: some of them we can deduce
with the aid of pure concepts from others, already found, while we are led
to the discovery of others merely through perception. Thus, if we know
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Partirn!ar Rules
that the cause of a certain change is a rational being, we can determine
from pure concepts that this cause is a simple being, that it had a rational
purpose in its activity, and so on. But whether this purpose is good or evil
cannot be decided from the indicated attribute alone; this would require
further perceptions. But I need not give any instructions as to how one
can find attributes which are deducible from those already found, or from
pure concepts, or both. Hence I have to consider only those attributes
whose presence is found through perception. But all attributes of an ob-
ject whose presence is deduced from mere perceptions consist in nothing
but certain jbrces, namely, those in whose presence we make the asser-
tion that the object in question is capable of causing certain perceptible
changes in us and in others. Now in order to infer a given attribute from
perception, we must either have ourselves made this perception or some-
one we find credible enough must report to us that he has made it. And in
order to arrive at an object from this perception, one of two things must
be the case: either we must think of the object as the immediate cause of 500
this perception, or else we must assume that the object had some influ-
ence or other on the changes of the thing that was the immediate cause of
our perception. In the first case, we must ascribe to the object the power
to produce the perception that we (or others) had. In the second case, we
must assume that it has the power to bring about certain changes in cer-
tain other objects, and in this way to bring about a perception mediately.
Hence it follows that a closer determination of a cause always consists in
showing that one and the same object, which we assume to be the cause of
a certain change, has also produced other changes of such and such a kind
under certain circumstances. But even though it is true that every effect
that occurs in time is a mere alteration, and every cause that brings forth
an effect may be looked upon as aforce, we would be needlessly depart-
ing from customary ways of speaking and fettering ourselves if we were
always to insist on using the words "alteration" and "force". Usually, we
only call an effect an alteration if it occurs quite quickly before our eyes,
and only call an attribute aforce when we consider it the cause of some
quite obvious alteration. Finally, concerning the effects themselves for
which we want to find a cause, two essentially different cases must be
distinguished. The effect can be a single determinate object, and it is de-
sired that we should indicate the determinate forces which have brought
it about; or it is a certain kind of phenomenon and it is desired that we
should indicate the kind of force which can bring about such phenomena.
An example of the first kind is the task of finding the cause of the eclipse
331
 THE ART OF DISCOVERY§. 379.
501 of the sun described in Matthew 27, 45. An example of the second kind
is the task of finding the causes of eclipses of the sun in general.
1) In the first case, when the object whose cause we wish to find is
a single fully determinate actual object, it follows from the well known
truth that God is the Creator and Governor of the whole world, and from
the law of the universal reciprocal influence of created objects, that the
complete cause of the existence and the attributes of our object can only
be the totality of all existing objects. For each of them has some influ-
ence upon it, no matter how small, so if that other thing did not exist, our
object would be different. It follows from this that the task of finding the
complete cause of something is impossible for us. But that is not usu-
ally what is wanted when we are asked to find the cause of an object or
effect. Normally, only an indication of objects which have a humanly dis-
cernible influence upon the fact that the object has such and such observed
attributes is desired. Moreover, we usually allow ourselves to neglect all
those circumstances whose presence is understood, as well as those which
are not important for the purpose of the investigation in question. The lat-
ter explains why one and the same event, depending on the point of view
from which it is considered, and depending on the reason why we want
to know its cause, can truly be said to have very different causes. Thus
the death of Clitus can be attributed by a doctor to bleeding, by a moralist
to rage, by a judge to a murder, and by others to other objects. Hence
the various designations causa principalis, concomitativa, effectiva, in-
strwnentalis, physica, moralis, etc. If it were already known that effects
502 of kind E could be brought about only by the particular kind of object
C, then no further investigation would be required to show that C was
present in this case. On the other hand (by far the most common case), if
there are several objects C, C', C", ... , each of which is suitable for pro-
ducing an effect of kind E, then, if we already know this, we only have
to investigate which of these various causes, C, C', C", ... was present in
this particular case. We will find this by investigating the phenomena si-
multaneous with E or slightly before E and by considering whether they
indicate the presence of C or C' or C", .... From this we can see that the
first of the indicated problems can be solved if only the second is solved,
i.e., that we can find the cause of the given effect easily enough if we only
know which kind of cause produces what kind of effect. But how do we
arrive at this knowledge?
2) In the case of perception, this can only happen, I believe, if we
observe many cases where an effect such as E takes place, and attempt as
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Particular Rules
best we can to learn of all the circumstances that accompany E, i.e., all
phenomena that occur either simultaneously with or shortly before E. If
this has been done, and the comparison of all the cases has brought to light
the fact that a certain collection of phenomena a, a', a", ... always occurs
shortly before an effect E does, or if we have discovered that one of the
collections a. a', a", ... , b, b', b", ... or c, c', c", ... always precedes E,
then we shall be permitted to surmise in the former case that the object A
which produces all the phenomena a, a', a", ... is necessary for the occur-
rence or E; and in the latter that one of the several objects-perhaps A, as
the object that produces a, a', a", ... or B as the object that produces b, b',
b", ... , or C, which produces c, c', c", ... -must be present if the effect 503
E is to be produced. We will even think ourselves justified in adhering
to this conjecture if, along with the many cases where we have perceived
tl1e co11 cc't'10n of phenomena a, a"I , a II , ... , 01• b , l7I , b" , . . . 01· c, c' , cJ' , ... ,
>
there is one where we did not in fact perceive all these phenomena-it
suffices that the circumstances be such that our not perceiving them does
not permit us to infer that they are absent. Thus we rightly surmise that
none of the more highly developed plants are produced on earth today
except through reproduction from plants like them, even though we have
not observed this in every case. For in a case where we have not per-
ceived the existence of a parent plant, the circumstances are never such as
would compel us to deny the existence of one. The degree of confidence
our conjecture possesses increases with the number of cases in which we
have observed E to follow the phenomena a,a',a", ... , or b,b',b", .. .
or c,c',c", .... But saying that E never occurs without a,a',a", .. .
or b, b', b", . . . or c, c', c", . . . does not mean that we are entitled to
say that the objects A,B,C, ... are the cause of effect E. For what has
been observed so far, namely, that E never occurs without a, a', a", ...
orb, b', b", ... or c, c', c", ... occurring either simultaneously or shortly
before, can also happen if one of the objects A, B, C, ... is not the com-
plete, but only a partial cause, a mere condition of E, or indeed an effect
of E. Which of these relations obtains between E on the one hand and
A, B, C, ... on the other must be decided based on other considerations.
If we could only observe a, a', a", ... in some cases where E occurred, 504
and only b, b', b", ... in others, then there can be no doubt that neither
a, a', a", ... nor b, b', b", ... can be considered an effect of E alone. For
if the complete cause of even one of these phenomena were contained in
E, then we would have to perceive it every time we perceive E, since a
complete cause always produces its effect. Admittedly, it does not follow
333
 THE ART OF DISCOVERY§. 379.
from this alone that E cannot be a partial cause of these phenomena. But
we have a simple indicator that this is not the case when we notice that
some or all of the phenomena a, a', a", ... occur a certain time before E.
For it is obvious that an effect can never be present earlier than its cause,
though it may occur later, if by ejj'ect one means that which persists after
a cause has been active for a certain length of time. Thus if we notice that
the phenomena a,a',a", ... always occur a certain time earlier than E,
we will be justified in surmising that A is only a partial or complete cause
of the effect E to be explained. If A or A, B, C, ... are supposed to be not
just a partial but the complete cause of the phenomenon E, then not only
must A or A, B, C, ... be present everywhere that E is, but also conversely,
whenever A or A,B,C, ... are present, E must be as well. Thus we must
inquire whether this occurs, i.e., whether everywhere we may perceive
a,a',a", ... or b,b1 ,b11 , • • • or c,c',c", ... , E may also be perceived.
The larger the number of cases in which this occurs, and the greater the
505 differences in all other respects, the greater the confidence with which we
may assume that the object A or one of the several objects A, B, C, ... is a
complete cause of E. For, the greater the differences between the remain-
ing circumstances under which E took place while A or one of A, B, C, ...
was present, the smaller the danger that some other, hidden, object A' or
B' was a partial cause in the production of E. Thus somebody can be
all the more confident that he gets a headache from drinking coffee, the
more often he realises that he gets this headache when he drinks coffee
and the greater the differences in the rest of his activities on those days.
If the number of cases that present themselves should tum out to be too
small to allow us to infer anything with sufficient assurance, and the na-
ture of the case allows it, we must perform more experiments, i.e., we
must produce the objects A,B,C, ... and observe whether E occurs.
What was said above about not perceiving a, a', a", . . . or b, b1 ,
b", ... or c, c', c", ... , also holds for not perceiving the effect E, at
least in cases where not perceiving E does not compel us to conclude that
E is not present. If, by contrast, there is even a single case in which the
factors a,a',a", . .. or b,b',b", ... or c,c',c", ... , are all present yet
the effect E does not follow, we would have to conclude that the objects
A,B,C, . .. do not contain the complete cause of E. We must then strive
to find other objects A', B', C', ... which, in conjunction with those we
have already discovered, do produce the effect E. For this it is necessary
to observe the circumstances in which E occurs still more carefully, and
to take note of circumstances a'", b"', c111 , ••• which, though they may not
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Particular Rules
occur as often as those we first noticed (a, a', a", ... or b, b', b", ... or
c, c', c", ... ), are nevertheless encountered often enough, or else seem
important to us on other grounds, or even come to light by pure chance. 506
We must then test to see whether the presence of the factors a, a', a", ...
along with a"' (or b, b', b", ... along with b"' or c, c', c", ... along with
c111 ) produces E. If we succeed in this way in assembling a collection of
phenomena a,a',a 11 ,a111 , ••• or b,b1 ,b11 ,b111 , ••• , etc., of which it may be
said that whenever it occurs, E occurs as well, and indeed never before
but rather somewhat later, then we will be well justified in our conjecture
that the complete cause of the effect E is contained in the one or several
objects that are necessary to produce these phenomena (we may call these
A,A', ... or B,B', ... or C,C', ... ). But in the case where these objects
are complex, we may ask whether all of their parts are required to bring
about E, i.e., whether there is a simpler object than the one that brings
about a,a',a",a'", . .. or b,b 1 ,b11 ,b111 , • •• , etc. We have no other rea-
son for this conjecture than that E never occurred unless the phenomena
a, a', a", a'", ... orb, b', b", b'", ... , etc., also occurred together. Hence if
it is within our power to bring about these phenomena singly or partially,
then it would be reasonable to see whether an object which produces only
a, am, or only b and b111 , is sufficient to produce E. For example, people
would have thought that the propagation of sound requires air, if they had
not made experiments which showed that one can propagate sound with-
out air, for example in water; from this it followed that the true cause of
sound lies only in those properties of air which it shares with other elastic
bodies.
3) The difficulties which stand in the way of the just-indicated pro-
cedure are greater than might be thought. The reason is that the number
of circumstances which accompany every event, including the event E 507
which is to be explained, is infinite. Hence it happens only too frequently
that in spite of careful attention we fail to see just those circumstances
which are required to find the true cause. Among the large number of
perceptions it is difficult enough to find those which occurred in all or
most cases where E took place. It is even more difficult to remember pre-
cisely whether these perceptions have been found together on other occa-
sions although E did not follow. Moreover, testing by experiment whether
whenever we produce all the phenomena a, a', a", ... or b, b', b11 , • • • E
also occurs, and whether E does not occur when we produce only some
of these phenomena, is not only almost always difficult, costly, and time-
consuming, but also may be impossible. The patience of even the most
335
 THE ART OF DISCOVERY§. 379.
assiduous researcher is tried when after long inquiry he discovers that an
object that he had looked upon as the cause of a given phenomenon does
not belong at all to this cause, so that he must start again from the begin-
ning. Given these difficulties, it is desirable to know some rules which
would shorten and facilitate this work somewhat.
a) One of these rules is the following: if there are a great number
of cases when E occurred, where E is the event to be explained, then
we should first concentrate on those cases which differ most widely from
each other, i.e., which have very few common features outside of the
presence of effect E. In these cases it would be permissible to assume
only one of two things, namely, either that the cause of the effect to be
explained was different in these two cases, hence that there are several
causes which can bring about E, or that this cause lies in one of the few
508 circumstances which the two cases have in common. Now since it is
not very probable that so many utterly different causes have one and the
same effect, it is reasonable to begin with an examination of the second
assumption, especially given that we can expect that this examination will
not take a lot of time, since there are only very few circumstances which
need to be examined.
b) It often happens that whenever a certain event E took place a con-
siderable number of similar circumstances occurred which are not all
necessary for the occurrence of E. In order to find out whether this is
the case, the quickest method is to look for cases where most of these
circumstances were present without the occurrence of E. From this we
find out at once that none of these circumstances contains the complete
cause of E; hence we do not have to make a lot of guesses which we must
eventually discard.
c) If the effect E is of a kind which admits of more or less, or (as
we say) which admits of degrees, then the discovery of its cause may be
greatly facilitated if we first concentrate upon phenomena which increase
and decrease concomitantly. For, wherever the effect has a degree, the
cause also must have a degree, and the larger the latter the larger must be
the former. Hence it is reasonable to suppose that the phenomena which
increase and decrease concomitantly with the effect belong to its cause,
unless, incleecl, we discover that they are its effect; the latter case could be
discovered if we found that these phenomena occur somewhat later than
the event we wish to explain. Thus we conclude that the light of the sun
causes warmth on earth because we notice that a spot becomes warmer
the larger the number of sun rays which fall upon it.
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Particular Rules
cl) Let E be an object which has a mathematical opposite, and let C be
its cause; then we may assume that the opposite of C is the cause of the
opposite of E. Hence we investigate whether among the circumstances 509
accompanying E there are some that are the opposite of those accompa-
nying the opposite of E. If we find any, then we may assume that they
are, if not the complete, then at least a partial, cause of E. For exam-
ple, if we notice that the volume of a body becomes larger if it becomes
warmer, and becomes smaller if we remove heat from it, we conclude that
the cause of its expansion lies in the increased heat.
e) If we wish to find the cause of a phenomenon which is found to
accompany many objects only occasionally, then it is reasonable, above
all, to see if there are not some of them that display this phenomenon all
the time and others that never display it. In the former case, there must be
something which causes this phenomenon, in the latter, something which
prevents it. If we therefore consider the attributes belonging exclusively
to the former class, or at least to the former class in contrast with the
latter, then we may hope to find at least a partial ground of the event.
For example, transparency is an attribute which is found in all bodies
that have a high degree of fluidity and in all expansible fluids, but not
in solids that have a non-homogeneous structure. Therefore, we surmise
that the similarity of parts of a body is one of the main conditions for its
transparency.
4) If the object A that we perceive to be the cause of a given phe-
nomenon E is composite, for instance, a body, then we may also ask
whether all of the parts of A take part in bringing about E. And if this
is the case, and the phenomenon E consists of several individual parts
e, e', e", ... , one may also ask whether each part of A plays a role in
bringing about all of these individual phenomena e, e', e", ... , or whether,
e.g., only some parts of A bring about e, and other parts bring about e',
etc. Thus we say that a rosebush that stands before us is the cause of
the pleasant fragrance we smell, yet it may not be the entire rosebush, 510
but rather only some of the small parts developed from its petals that are
the proximal cause which, along with the air, produces this scent. The
pressure we feel from a stone held in our hand, by contrast, is an effect
to which each individual part of the stone contributes equally. Now what
characteristics allow us to know which of these two cases obtains? If a
phenomenon E remains unchanged when certain parts of the object A are
changed in diverse ways, we gather that these parts do not belong to the
cause of the phenomenon, at least not to its proximal cause. Thus we
337
 THE ART OF DISCOVERY§. 379.
find that the scent of the rose remains when the petals remain close to our
nose, no matter how far away the other parts may be. We conclude that
the petals contain the proximal cause of the scent. When, by contrast, we
observe that the effect E becomes smaller the more we alter the relations
of the parts of A, and that it does not matter which parts are involved,
we may conclude that all the parts of A contribute equally to the produc-
tion of the effect E. If, by contrast, we succeed in reducing A to parts
in such a way that one of them produces e on its own, another produces
e', etc., then there is no doubt that the phenomena e, e', e", ... of which
E is composed are produced only by the individual parts of which A is
511 composed.
5) If we indicate several objects A,A' ,A", ... as the cause of E or,
what amounts to the same thing, if we claim that A is composite and only
some parts of A bring about one part of the phenomenon E while others
bring about other parts, it is still necessary to determine in what spatial
and temporal relations these several objects or parts must be in order to
to produce E. For example, if we wish to explain a multiple echo, it
will not suffice to state that there were several elastic surfaces capable
of reflecting the sound, for the unequal distances between these surfaces
must also be indicated. Some information on how we begin to gather the
nature of such relations in space and time through experience has already
been given in §303.
6) If we have come to know through experience one or several objects
A,B,C, ... capable of producing an effect E, and we are asked to explain
how an effect like E was produced in a new case, it is natural to conjecture
that it was produced by one of the the objects A, B, C, .... But this is not
necessary, for there might be many other unknown objects that produce
effects like E, and one of them might have been responsible in this case.
In order to decide this question, we must (a) inquire whether among the
circumstances that accompany E there are any indications of the presence
of one of A,B,C, ... , i.e., whether there is any phenomenon that belongs
specifically to one of these objects. If this is the case, then we have no
reason to suppose that there is another ground (here, another cause) of E
than the presence of the given object. (b) But if there is no such indication,
we must look to see whether there is some factor that makes the absence
512 of one or several of these objects probable. This would be the case, for
instance, if these objects produce phenomena that we could not overlook
had they occurred. If this occurs for all of the objects we know so far to be
capable of causing E, we must conjecture that there is some other object,
338
Particular Rules
unknown to us, capable of producing such a phenomenon, and which
did produce it in this case, provided that each of the assumptions that the
object A (or B or C) was present though we did not observe it has a smaller
probability than the assumption that there is another object that possesses
the capacity to produce E, even though we have not yet observed it. If
the circumstances of the phenomenon we seek to explain confer an equal
relative probability on the presence of each of the objects A, B, C, ... , it is
obvious that we will find the one to be most probable which we have so far
found most often to be the cause of such phenomena. But if the number of
cases in which one of the causes, e.g., A, was found to be operating is not
larger than half of the total number of observations, then the probability
of the assumption that E was caused by A is not large enough to warrant
the claim that it really was that way. For, given that we have observed n
cases, and A was found to have occurred a times, then the probability of
the proposition that A was present in this case equals ~!: and this figure
becomes > 4only if a > ~. Unless the circumstances of the present case
speak for each of A, B, C, ... with equal strength, we must also include in
our calculation of probability the relevant conditions of the present case 513
in addition to the considerations of former cases. Finally, we must favour
that assumption which has the highest degree of probability over all the
others.
7) It often occurs that a phenomenon E we seek to explain can be
analysed into several parts e, e', e", ... in such a way that we know one
or several objects capable of producing these parts. Understandably, we
should not proceed to assume that there is an object hitherto unknown to
us that has the power to produce E until we have seen that every attempt
to explain the phenomenon in question through a combination of forces
already known to us has either proved untenable, or else depends upon as-
sumptions that are less probable than the former assumption. In order to
decide such cases, we must consider in addition to what was mentioned in
no. 6, (a) whether the several objects, whose combined operation would
explain E, are indeed compatible; or whether one of them might not have
a force which cancels the presence or efficacy of another. If the mode
of operation of these objects is unknown to us, if we have no experi-
ence showing that they can act together, then it is far from certain that
they can together produce the sum of what they can produce individually.
(b) Secondly, we must consider whether it is probable that the number of
objects required can actually be found in the necessary spatial and tem-
poral relations. The larger we assume the number of these objects to be,
339
 THE ART OF DISCOVERY§. 379.
the smaller the probability that they will be found together in exactly the
way required, unless there is some particular cause that can bring about
this disposition of objects.
8) The most difficult case arises when a phenomenon is to be ex-
514 plained that has been observed only once, i.e., a phenomenon which can
be brought under a concept E which does not fit any past observation. In
my view, there are only two methods with which we can determine more
precisely the cause of such a phenomenon. (a) One of them is to find out
whether there were not some unique circumstances accompanying or im-
mediately preceding the phenomenon. We would then assume that they
belong to the cause of E, since it is certain that an unusual effect can
only be brought about by an unusual cause. (b) No matter how peculiar
the given phenomenon is, it will still have certain similarities with other
phenomena which we have often seen and whose cause we know. Now
since similar causes bring about similar effects, we can conversely argue,
at least tentatively, from the similarities of effects to a certain similarity
of causes. In this way we can estimate not only several characteristics
of the unknown cause of E, but if we find an object with these charac-
teristics in the vicinity of E we can often strengthen our assumption by
a closer investigation of this object, provided only that we find several
further properties of the cause which is to be determined. It is understood
that this latter method can also be used when we have to explain a phe-
nomenon which we have seen several times, provided it is done carefully
enough. Thus from the similarity between the phenomena of light and
of sound, we can argue for a similarity of causes for both of them and,
by suitable experiments based upon this assumption, we can arrive at a
more detailed knowledge of the nature of light. A repeated application
515 of this argument from similarity will often lead to at least a partial, if not
complete, knowledge of the cause of the phenomenon which was quite
inexplicable in the beginning. It can happen that repeated comparisons of
many objects lead to a whole series of phenomena E, E 1 , E2 , E3 , ... , En,
which are such that each of them has great similarities to the next one,
although members that are farther apart, especially E and E,z, have al-
most no similarity at all to each other. Finally, it may well be the case
that we have a reasonably close knowledge of cause C,1 of phenomenon
En. Now the great similarity of En-I and E11 allows us to assume that
phenomenon En- I has a cause C,1_ 1 which is not exactly like C,z. but has
a certain attribute c in common with it. In the same way, the similarity
of En-I and E11 _2 can be of a kind which justifies us to assume also for
340
Particular Rules
En-2 that it has the attribute c and so on, until we are finally justified
to assume of the given phenomenon E, that its cause C, no matter how
different from Ci, still has the attribute c, which was possessed by all
the other causes as well. This conjecture, which is quite weak at first,
may be strengthened if the attribute c of the causes C11 _ 1, C11 _2, ... lying
between Ci and C, which is inferred merely through similarity, is also
found through experience. Thus if we had never seen any living beings
apart from humans, it would hardly occur to us to seek a living cause of
the movements of the tiny bodies we see through a microscope in every
drop of a fermenting liquid. But since we have sufficient experience of
our own life being expressed through movement, and know of a number
of other beings that move in similar ways in similar circumstances, since
these beings are similar to us in so many ways (e.g., in their limbs, etc.) 516
that we could not doubt that they too are alive, since these beings again
bear so much similarity to other, smaller ones that we must suppose life
as the cause of the latter's movements, and since the sequence of similar
beings actually extends to the infusoria, the thought that these last beings
are alive occurs to us irresistibly as soon as we observe them.
9) From all of this it becomes obvious that in looking for the cause of
a given effect we almost always have the choice among several assump-
tions, where the task is to decide which of them is the most probable. Now
in order to calculate or even estimate the degree of probability of each of
these assumptions, we must, first of all, know of which and how many
simple (i.e., not further decomposable) and independent premises each of
them is composed. Next we must determine the degree of probability of
each of these individual premises, if not by precise calculation, then at
least by a rough estimation, if only based on an obscure feeling, and fi-
nally we must form the product of these degrees. Lastly, the assumption
which shows the greatest value for the product of the degrees of probabil-
ity of its individual premises is the most probable of all. But it can also be
the case that the individual premises into which two assumptions A and B
can be decomposed, or at least those premises in which they differ, have
the same degree of probability-when, that is, there is no reason to main-
tain that the individual assumptions a, a', a", ... of which A consists hold,
rather than the assumptions p, P', p", ... of which B consists. It is fairly
obvious that we should, in this case, declare the assumption which con-
sists of the smallest number of presuppositions to be the most probable of 517
the two, even if we do not know the degree of their probability. Hence,
it is generally maintained that, other things being equal, a hypothesis is
341
 THE ART OF DISCOVERY§. 379. Particular Rules

the more acceptable, the smaller the number of the independent premises truths; it would be false to assume that the latter are found in a different
of which it consists. Thus, if the phenomenon E can be explained in two way than the former while in fact their greater reliability rests only on the
ways, namely, by the accidental conjunction of three objects a, b, c, and greater number of observations.
also by the accidental conjunction of four objects d,e,f,g, and if these Sometimes, the reason why a simpler hypothesis is to be preferred to
premises are of equal probability, then the first explanation must be pre- a more complex one (cf. no. 9) is sought in the circumstance that we may
ferred to the second. presuppose that nature always follows the simplest rules. In my opinion,
Note. Many philosophers have claimed that the true causes of phe- no special presuppositions are needed for this, rather, it follows from the
nomena, or the powers of things, are forever hidden; the reason is that rules of the probability calculus itself; cf. §253, note.
we can know only their effects, since what we perceive are always ef-
fects, never causes. These claims are occasioned by the discovery that §.380.
the cause of a given effect can never be determined through experience in
any other way than by showing that this cause also produces certain other The most common mistakes in pe1fonning this task
phenomena. Now this provides a splendid opportunity for loud lamenta-
Since the discovery of the causes of given effects is such a difficult prob-
tions about the limitations of human knowledge. I gladly agree that hu-
lem, it is not surprising that people often fail to solve it, and that there are
man knowledge is limited, but it seems to me that this sort of complaint
several kinds of mistakes committed in performing this task. It will be
is improper. We cannot properly say that we do not know the powers
useful to provide even a very brief survey of these mistakes. It may hap-
of things since we perceive only their effects; for to know the powers of
pen ( 1) that we indicate something as the cause of a given effect when in
things means to know their effects. There cannot be any way of knowing
fact it does not belong to that cause. Or (2), that we look upon something
the power of a thing, either for men or for anybody else, except through a
as the complete cause when it is only partial cause. (3) We may seek 519
recognition of its effects, since a power cannot be anything but a cause, or
the cause in a whole when one of its parts suffices to produce the effect.
a ground for the generation of certain effects. What I would acknowledoe b
(4) We may believe that the cause of all the phenomena of a given kind E
as a limitation of our knowledge and the knowledge of all other created
lies in one of the objects A, B, C, ... when in fact there are other objects
beings, is that we can perceive the powers of things only in so far as they
M,N, 0, ... which can equally well produce this effect. (5) We indicate
act upon us, either mediately or immediately, that we know so very few of
the cause correctly, but do not specify it more precisely, or at least not
518 their powers and that of these we only have probable and quite unreliable
as precisely as might be asked. This would be the case, for example, if
knowledge.
we sought to explain the cohesiveness of a body by saying simply that
It is usually maintained that the discovery of the cause of a given phe-
there is a special force of cohesion between the parts of the body which
nomenon does not always, but only sometimes, require the introduction
produces this phenomenon. For such a force is admittedly the true cause
of certain hypotheses. But if a hypothesis is nothing but a proposition
of the phenomenon of cohesiveness, but we would like to know also the
which we introduce in order to give an explanation, of which we are not
properties of this force and its causes, provided that it has them. The ex-
fully certain but maintain only with probability, then every determination
planation of so many of the productions of animals, e.g., of bees, as the
of a cause to a given effect which is taken from experience requires hy-
effects of instinct is just as worthless. (6) We may indicate the correct
potheses. The reason is that such determinations can only be arrived at
cause, but ascribe properties to it that it does not have. This is the case,
by means of probabilistic inferences. The only difference is that these
e.g., when we falsely represent the way that a cause produces its effect.
hypotheses may have a larger or smaller degree of probability; hence it
Thus many people, who rightly indicate the eye as the organ of sight, are
is a mere difference of quantity and should be described as such. I think
mistaken in thinking that it accomplishes this with the help of the tiny im-
that we should issue a specific warning to novices not to overlook this
ages which appear on its surface. (7) Finally, we may err in ascribing too
fact, i.e., not to assume an opposition between hypotheses on one hand
high a degree of probability to our claim indicating a cause, one which is
and propositions which are in ordinary life called established experiential
not justified by the perceptions we have had so far.

342 343
 THE ART OF DISCOVERY§. 381.
Note. Some, e.g., JAKOB (§380), go too far when they reject a hy-
pothesis simply because its possibility is not certain, or requires other
hypotheses. It suffices that its impossibility has not been shown, and that
the sum of the assumptions which are made to support it is smaller than
520 it would be in any other case.
§.38 l.
XXIV. Examination ofpwported causes
It often happens, either through error or evil intent, that someone claims
something to be the cause of a given effect when in fact it is not. In such
cases, we say that a cause has been falsely ascribed to the given effect,
which is called a .spurious production. By contrast, effects that actually
owe their existence to the indicated causes are called authentic produc-
tions. In particular, writings are called authentic or spurious depending
upon whether they were actually written by the person claimed to be the
author, either in the work itself or by general consent. If a work does
stem from the person it is said to, but contains many changes due to an-
other hand, i.e., if some of its parts are spurious, one says that it has been
adulterated, otherwise, one says that it is unadulterated. We now turn to
the most general rules to be employed in testing the genuineness of an
effect, or the correctness of declarations concerning its cause. (1) The
first thing is to inquire whether any of the propositions contained in these
declarations either completely contradicts truths already known to us, or
else is so improbable in light of these truths that all possible grounds of
proof for them would be far too weak to render them credible. Such a
case occurs when the given explanation contradicts a definitively settled
conceptual truth, and thus (as one says) supposes something completely
impossible. Of this sort is any explanation of an effect through a force,
the presence of which presupposes the effect, for example, the explana-
tion of cohesion through the assumption that the parts of all cohesive
521 bodies have the form of little hooks. Similarly contradictory is the expla-
nation of evil in the world through the supposition of a fundamentally evil
being, among others. (2) If the given explanation does not contradict any
truths known to us, we may proceed to investigate how much it accom-
plishes, i.e., whether the cause of the effect we seek to explain is more
precisely determined by it, or whether we simply learn what we already
knew, or else only learn something that requires no experiences, but only
a few inferences from pure concepts. Of this kind are all explanations
344
Particular Rules
which upon analysis turn out to be merely identical propositions, as with
the ancient explanations by means of so-called qualitates occultas. (3) If
the explanation is neither obviously absurd nor of the kind that is pate.ntly
obvious, we inquire whether the grounds it adduces (via the percept10ns
it is inferred from) have received sufficient proof; especially whether the
degree of their probability has not been overstated. T.his .inquiry pr~­
ceeds entirely according to the rules governing the exammatlon of proofs
in general, and more particularly on those concerning proofs inv~lving
probable inferences. (4) If it should turn out that the. ground~ are .mcor-
rect or at least insufficient to render the given explanat10n credible, it does
not follow that the explanation is incorrect, but only that it is unproven.
Thus we must see whether it is possible to give a stronger proof of the ex-
planation by making better use of the observations we have already m.ade
or by making new ones. We must inquire in particular whether every time
the indicated cause A is posited, the result E follows, whether a mere part
of A suffices to produce E, whether E sometimes occurs without any part
of A preceding it, etc. (5) If none of the inquiries discussed so far proves
the incorrectness of the explanation under examination, we must finally
inquire whether it would be possible to devise an explanation which. has
a higher degree of probability, either because it has fewer assumptlo1:s
than the given one, or for some other reason. If we do not succeed m 522
these attempts, if instead every explanation we try is less probable, then,
though it will not be permissible to deem the given explanation correct on
the spot, it will be permissible to accept it before any other on account of
its greater probability.
Note. When I extend the concepts of authenticity and unadulterated-
ness so that they apply to objects other than writings, one should not, I
believe, object, since common usage already takes these words in rou~hly
these senses. One speaks for instance of authentic and adulterated wmes,
and everyone calls a painting that has been falsely claimed to be the work
of Raphael spurious. Admittedly, for effects of special kinds ther~ .are
many other rules besides the general ones indicated above for determm.mg
their authenticity. With written works, for instance, it is quite appropriate
to divide the grounds for authenticity into the internal and the external,
where by inner grounds one means those that arise from the nature of .the
work itself (whether in the work there occurs something that contradicts
what is known about the nature of the supposed author; and whether it
would have been easy or difficult for an impostor to impart the character-
istics of authenticity to a forgery), and by outer we mean all other factors,
345
 THE ART OF DISCOVERY§. 382. Partirnlar Rules

especially the authority of those who have either taken the writino-b to be which logicians have accordingly given a name: Sophisma: post hoc vel
.
genume or else rejected it, etc. cum hoc, ergo propter hoc (§371.2i). 1 (5) No less care should be taken to
assure that one does not proceed too hastily in inferring that because one
§.382. does not perceive something that it is not there; because, for example, one
did not see any other phenomena besides a, a', a", ... , hastily inferring
Further rules to be observed when seeking causes that the object A contains the complete, and indeed the unique cause ca-
pable of bringing about E. One may call this fallacy non vis um, ergo non
In order to be even more certain to avoid the errors enumerated in the last praesens. 2 (6) Finally, one should take care to assure that the desire to
sectio.n whe~1 .seeking causes, it is advantageous to adhere to the following find an explanation does not lead us to make assumptions that, while they
rules m add1t10n to those set out in §§379 and 381: (1) One should take may explain the case before us, are nevertheless inconsistent with earlier
care not to confuse propositions that are mere consequences of our imme- experiences. This occurs especially easily in cases where we want to sup-
523 diate perceptions and indeed consequences drawn through merely prob- pose the existence of new, hitherto unnoticed forces; for in this case we
able inferences, with the immediate perceptions themselves, and thereby must always show why it was that the existence of such forces was never
take the former to have the complete certainly that only belongs to the noticed before.
latter. As one usually says, we should not ascribe to perception itself
what is merely inferred from it. This can occur as soon as the inferences §.383.
we use to deduce these propositions from our immediate perceptions be-
come so familiar that we perform them without being distinctly aware of XXV Discovering suitable means for given ends
doing so. (2) Even with propositions one knows to be merely probable,
No problem for our reflection arises more often than that of discovering
one should be careful not to overestimate the degree of probability. This
means that lead to a given end. By an end I mean any effect we may
happens all too often when we do not make a complete survey of all the
represent a thinking being as intending to bring about, or an end that such
various cases that may occur, and also when we have used a proposition
a being could will to bring about. Something that is in fact willed is
many times without hitting upon an example that shows its incorrectness.
called an actual end, and something that merely might be willed a possi-
(3) We should never forget to pay heed to the influence that the consti-
ble end. Whatever the infinite being, i.e., God, wills is actual at the same
tution of our body has on the origin and nature of our perceptions, and
time God wills it; but not everything that finite beings will manages to 525
indeed the effects our body has on the soul on account of the soul's own
become actual. Indeed, they may even will things that cannot be. God's
influence on the body, e.g., its imaginings, wishes, expectations, etc. Ifwe
ends are always morally good, while ends of finite beings may also be
are not attentive to this influence, which often escapes our notice, it will
evil. Every object which, through the action of the will (more precisely,
occur only too often that we attribute the changes in our perceptions only
the outwardly-directed force) of a being, becomes the (complete or par-
to the external objects surrounding us while in fact a change in ourselves
either in our body or our soul, plays a significant role. Thus we will mak~
tial) cause of something the being intends is called a means to this end.
An object that the being holds to be a means though actually it is not, is
quite false judgements about what befalls us, and hence incorrectly de-
called an alleged means, as opposed to the so-called actual or suitable
termine its causes. For instance, we quite frequently see people whose
means. Finite beings all too often choose only alleged means. Since a
organs of taste are altered through illness incorrectly judging the taste of
means, even if it is suitable for bringing about a given end, may have
food, when they are either unaware of the changes or else fail to think
other effects as well, it is not always the case that when the end is for the
of them. (4) One should be constantly aware that it is risky, and in cer-
best the means is too. Hence even if an end is morally good, the means
524 tain cases impermissible, to infer from the mere fact that the phenomena
may not be praiseworthy. It may often be useful to know morally bad
a, aI , aII , ... occurre d e1t. her bf .
e ore or smmltaneously with E one or more
times that the object A which produces a, a', a", ... contains the complete 1Sophism: this occurred either after or with that, therefore this was caused by that.
2 It is not seen, therefore it is not present.
cause of E. Most errors in the search for causes stem from this fallacy, to

346 347
 THE ART OF DISCOVERY§. 383.
means, for instance in order to hinder those who would use them. Thus
one should not hold it against logic if it deals with the most general pro-
cedures for finding suitable means (whether good or bad) for given ends
(whether good or bad). (1) The first thing is to consider whether it is pos-
sible to see in advance that because of some circumstance there simply
is no means of the sort demanded. This would be the case if we were
able to see through some reflection either that the required effect has its
sufficient ground in the will or, more precisely, in the outwardly directed
force of a being and hence, as one says, follows immediately, or that the
required effect is something impossible or, finally, that it is something
over which the will and its outwardly-directed force have no influence.
526 (2) If we do not discover anything that would demonstrate the impossi-
bility of the sought means in advance, we proceed to inquire whether we
or others have previously encountered a phenomenon of the required sort
' or indeed several causes for each of the pl1enomena e, eI , e II , ... , wh"1c j1
either complete in itself or else, if it is complex, if we have encountered
its parts. (3) If (as far as we know) neither we nor others have perceived
an effect of the required sort, either as a whole or in its individual parts,
it will hardly be possible for us to indicate a means capable of producing
it, unless we could see from concepts alone not only the sort of cause
that might produce such an effect, but also that the being in question has
within its power the forces necessary to bring about this cause. Thus, for
example, with respect to God we may know from concepts alone that He
must have the intention of producing the greatest possible sum of happi-
ness, and also that as a means to this end He must have created an infinite
number of sensate beings, that he must reward goodness and punish evil,
and allow us to persist after death, etc. (4) If, however, we discover that
the individual phenomena e, e', e", ... , for which we are supposed to
find means to bring about together, have already occurred somewhere, we
must investigate, following the instructions of §379, the causes whereby
each of these phenomena might be produced. If we find in this way that
the phenomenon e may be brought about through the causes A,B,C, ... ,
and e' brought about by A', B', C', ... , etc., then the question arises of
whether any of these causes are constituted in such a way that the mere
will of the being for whom we seek to specify means to the given end is
capable of producing them. But in order to be in a position to claim that
the mere will of a being is capable of bringing about a certain cause A,
one of two things must be the case: either we see from concepts alone that
527 the will of this being can affect an object a in such a way that it becomes
the desired cause A, or else we must know this through experience. The
348
Particular Rules
latter can clearly happen in the same way we learn of causes in general.
for example, if we experience repeatedly that our resolutions or those
of others are followed by a certain change, e.g., changing an object a
into A, we may conclude that the resolution is the g.rouncl o~ this change.
(5) But even if the proximal cause of the effect e 1s not of the so:t that
a mere act of will could produce, we should not be deterred by this, but
rather we must (through repeated applications of §379) see~ the :emoter
causes of e and see whether we in the encl come across a thmg oi the re-
quired sort, i.e., one that depends only on a being's will. If, no mat~er how
far we continue our investigation, we are not fortunate enough to discover
a proximal or remote cause for each of the effects e, e', e", ... , which is
so constituted that we may expect it to be produced by a mere act of the
being's will, then we are in no position to indicate a means that would
serve to bring about the end in its entirety. But if we have discovered one
the being might expect to produce, it is easy to point out a means that
will lead to the given encl, for every combination of any one of the causes
capable of bringing about e with one capable of bringing about e', etc.,
will be such a means. Thus if there are several causes that can produce
one of the phenomena e, e', e", ... , there will also be several means for
us to recommend. (6) If, among the means discovered in this way, we
are supposed to single out the one that is easiest and simplest, we must
clearly first know how much effort is required, and how complex a coor- 528
dination of forces is required to bring about each of the individual causes
A,A' ,A", .... Here we must investigate in particular whether any of the
causes that produce e also produce e' at the same time, and so on.
§.384.
XXVI. Discovering the effects of given causes
Frequently, our problem is not to discover the causes of given effects, as
in §379, but rather to discover the effects of given causes. Here too one
may immediately distinguish two cases, namely, whether the given cause
is a single, fully determinate object, or the entire kind of objects standing
under a concept C, and whether one accordingly asks us to indicate a sin-
gle, completely determinate effect that will occur in this case, or only the
kind of effect E that is to be expected in all cases standing under the con-
cept C. Now since the (complete) cause already completely determines
its effect we will know how to determine the effect that is to be expected
'
349
 THE ART OF DISCOVERY §. 384.
in a given individual case when we know the nature of the effects that ca
be produced by the kind of cause to which the given one belongs. Thu~
the first sort of problem is solved as soon as we know how to solve th
second sort. But in order to learn, and indeed through experience, Wha~
sort of effect each object standing under the concept e has, we will clearI
first have to look for such objects everywhere we can, and ?bserve in~
many cases as we can find what sorts of phenomena occur either simulta-
neously with e or shortly thereafter. By comparing these phenomena We
529 must determine whether there are any that uniformly occur whenever C
does. If we discover that whenever e occurs, the phenomena e,e'.e"
do as well, it will be permissible to conjecture that e, e', e", ... be I~~~
to the sought effects of e, provided that they are not parts of its cause.
Whether the last is the case may be decided following the instructions of
§379. If it turns out that the phenomena e, e', e", ... do not belong to
the cause of e, since, e.g., they occur later than e, then our conjecture
that they should be counted among the effects of e receives confirma-
tion. And this conjecture may even continue to stand if we sometimes
find e without finding that all of e, e', e", ... follow, provided that cir-
cumstances are such that our failure to perceive these phenomena does
not oblige us to conclude that they were absent. The more often it hap-
pens that e is followed by e, e1 , e", ... , the more probable it becomes
that e, e', e", ... are in fact results of e. Finally, we will be permitted to
infer that the object e is not merely a partial cause of e, e', e", ... , but
rather their complete cause if we have observed that e, e', e", ... follow
e in the most varied circumstances. Thus if it lies within our power to
produce the object e as often as we please, it is obvious that we can con-
fer a much higher degree of reliability on the probable inferences through
suitable experiments than through mere observation. Thus we must also
make use of this means, i.e., we must produce the object e in the most
varied circumstances, and see whether e, e', e", ... occur in every case
that e does. If some of e, e', e", ... do not occur in quite varied circum-
stances, we then see that these cannot be reckoned among the effects of C,
since they only arise through a combination of e and other factors. The
methods just recommended are useful when the object whose effects we
530 are investigating according to the concept C has already occurred many
times, i.e., when we are only asked to indicate the kind of effects that this
object has in common with several others we have already observed. The
problem is far more difficult when we are asked to indicate the effect of
an object which, according to the concept under which we subsume it, has
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ccurred only once or even never. Here only two means may be applied,
~ntirely similar to those indicated in §379, no. 8 for the case where we are
sked to discover the cause of a phenomenon that has occurred only once.
~a) If the object has occurred at least once, and if we have precisely ob-
served all the circumstances accompanying its occurrence, then we may
see whether among the observed circumstances there are some that we
do not observe anywhere else (i.e., not along with any non-e). It will
be permissible to assume at least tentatively that these are effects of e.
(b) For all its peculiarities, e must bear certain similarities to other objects
we have already observed, and whose effects we know. Based on these
similarities, we may make a conjectural inference that the effects will be
similar. If, for example, e is a combination of c, c', c", ... and if these
individually have the effects e, e', e", ... , we may conjecture that that the
effect of e will be some sort of combination of the known effects e, e',
e", .... Following this rule, for example, doctors hope that a medicine
consisting of two ingredients will have the effects of both of them. Clearly,
however, we may also use this means in cases where we have observed
c many times, and even in cases where we can produce e ourselves. For
even though such inferences based on analogy are not secure, they are
useful in that they lead to conjectures that will help us to reach our goal
more quickly, when we examine them according to the rules given above.
Indeed, repeated application of this kind of inference will sometimes put 531
us in a position to indicate the effects of an object which at first glance
does not bear enough similarity to any object known to us for us to make
any such inference. We do this in a way similar to that described in §379,
no. 8-namely, by comparing the object e with all objects that bear a
certain similarity to e, and the latter with others similar to themselves,
en'
etc., we might arrive at a sequence of objects e, el' e 2 ' e 3 ' ... , where
the extreme terms e and e 11 are quite different, even though each term of
the sequence bears the greatest similarity to the following term. It may
also turn out that the effect E" of the object C'1 is known well enough to
us, and the similarity that obtains between C'1 and cn- 1 is great enough
to justify the surmise that the effect of en- I, though not completely equal
to that of C'1 , will nevertheless have a certain property e in common with
it. In the same way, it may happen that en-I and cn- 2 are similar in such
a way that we may infer the presence of the property e in cn- 2 from its
presence incn- 1
• If this continues all the way toe, one sees that we may
surmise that the property we noticed in £ 11 (the effect of the object C") is
also present in the effect of e, i.e., in E, especially if we do not merely
351
 THE ART OF DISCOVERY§. 385.
infer the presence of the given property in all of En- i, E' 1-- 2 •... , E 1 by
analogy, but actually confirm its presence in some of them through expe-
rience. The most beautiful examples of the utility of this procedure are
provided by comparative anatomy, which led us to discover, for exam-
ple, the auditory organs of fishes in the swim bladder. If we are required
to enumerate not just some but all of the effects of an object, this only
ever means that we are supposed to enumerate effects from which all the
others follow. In doing this, no one should object if we include some
532 remote effects in this enumeration; indeed, people would be satisfied if
all these effects were mediate. What is required of us is that there be no
important effect that is not either one of those enumerated or a result of
one of them. We will be permitted to suppose that we have reached this
degree of completeness in our enumeration of the effects of C when apart
from the phenomena e, e', e", ... , there are no others, or at least no other
important ones, that occur every time C does, either simultaneously or
shortly afterwards.
§.385.
XXVII. Investigation of the judgements of other beings
Everyone knows that the knowledge of the opinions and judgements of
other beings is of the greatest importance not only for scientific aims but
for others as well. There is only one being, namely, the infinite being,
of which we know independently of all experience, from concepts alone,
that its judgements are constituted so that it recognises every truth. With
respect to all the other beings, however, we must first learn of some of
their judgements by experience before being able to reach a conclusion
(and only a probable one at that) about the nature of their other judge-
ments. But the experiences from which we are able to gather the opinions
of a being are never anything other than certain phenomena which can be
shown to be caused, at least mediately and partially, by certain judgements
that this being must have formed. The problem we must now attempt to
solve is thus actually a special case of the general problem of §379, which
concerns the discovery of the causes from their effects. Yet it should be
noted that here the effects are not usually looked upon as given, but rather
must first be sought. ( 1) First of all, we note the various circumstances
533 under which the views of a being may become evident, and then watch
carefully for their occurrence. Among us humans, such circumstances
include not only what we say-the best means we have discovered and
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Particular Rules
instituted in order to communicate our thoughts in detail to others-but
also everything that we wittingly and willingly undertake; for from every
action we may infer something about the concepts and judgements of the
agent, namely, his opinions concerning what is permissible and what is
forbidden, what is beneficial and what harmful, and so on. One should
also count here the things a man refrains from doing, for example, his re-
maining silent when accused. Finally, many things belong here that hap-
pen to a man involuntarily, such as his sudden confusion, blushing, fear,
and many other sensations which often reveal themselves against his will.
(2) But because the circumstances under which the views of a man may
become observable are so diverse, it is scarcely possible to say some-
thing general yet more precise about how we should infer his thoughts
from what we have perceived, except perhaps that we would only be jus-
tified in concluding that someone held a certain opinion if this assumption
were the only way to explain why he said, acted, or appeared precisely
the way he did in a given situation, when only this assumption made it
comprehensible how he could have looked upon what he did as his duty
or to his advantage, or necessary. We would be justified, for example, in
supposing that a man believed confidently in the immortality of his soul
when we observe that on his death-bed he is consoled and refreshed by
the thought of that other life. So too we may conclude that someone con-
siders wealth to be a highly desirable good when the unexpected news
that he has suddenly become a rich man fills him with immoderate joy.
(3) In such inquiries we must beware especially of the following: (a) We
must not attribute a change or phenomenon to someone when it is not his 534
doing. Thus we might easily think someone slightly vain on account of
certain embellishments of his clothes which we take to be there accord-
ing to his wish, while in truth they were put there by his tailor without
his knowledge. (b) We must not be overly hasty in concluding that an
observed change could not have occurred had it not been produced by
someone's opinions. We would be hasty to conclude, for example, that
someone must be conscious of his guilt because he blushes when we ask
him if he is guilty. (c) We must never forget to inquire whether someone
has intentionally undertaken a certain action in order to deceive us with
respect to his true views, i.e., to make us think that he holds an opinion
when he does not. Someone might, e.g., pretend that he can find no flaws
in our work, while thinking something completely different in his heart.
353
 THE ART OF DISCOVERY§. 386. Particular Rules

§.386. needs, that is, of increasing its happiness. But here we seek guidance on
how to determine the intentions of God or of created beings much more
XXVIII. Investigation of the intentions behind given actions precisely than these quite general attributes allow us to, and in particular
through observation.
T~e intentions ~ehind the undertakings of rational beings are also a kind
1) First, concerning divine intentions, we already know from what
of cause, of which these undertakings are the effects. Thus the problem
has been said that, with respect to every object, they consist in the collec-
of discovering the intentions behind given actions is again a special case
tion of all the good that has been or will be brought about by it. But as
o~ the problem of §379, which demands the discovery of the causes of
we are never in a position to completely survey this good-which is of
given effects. By the intention which a being has in its action, or the
infinite extent-it is clear that we may never have exhaustive knowledae b
aim of its action_( or the object brought about by this action-cf. §383),
of God's intentions. But in order to specify something of these intentions,
I understand a (nghtly or wrongly) expected effect of its activity, which
and indeed before the results themselves teach us what they are, we con-
determined the will of this being to perform this action, or which (as
sider the given object from all sides, note its constitution, and inquire in
one says) provided the motive for this action. But since every intention
the way indicated in §384 about the effects it might have, especially if
is a kind of judgement, we see that the present problem is subordinate
certain possible circumstances, among them our own activity, were to oc-
535 not only to that of §379, but also to that of §385, which concerned the
cur as well. If we have thought of several such effects E, E', E", E"', ... ,
investigation of others' judgements. Now since it is not specified in this
which we can see are either certain or likely to occur, or which might be
definition that the expectation which the acting being has with respect to
produced by us, we investigate which of these effects would be conducive
the successful peiformance of the act must be conscious, any being which
to the well-being of the whole, and indeed more so than any other. Of this
has the power of representation, e.g., animals, may act intentionally in
we may claim with the same degree of probability that we expect that it
this sense. In a nairower sense, however, one only speaks of intentions
will occur and at the same time be something good, that it belongs to the
in beings which represent their own ideas and judgements, and thus may
aim which God had in producing this object. If in the future these effects
become conscious of them. Understandably, we cannot infer from the
actually occur, we have proof that our conjecture was correct. In the op-
mere fact that the individual beings which contributed to the production of
posite case, when an effect we claimed to be God's aim is not produced,
some phenomenon acted intentionally that there was also an intention to
we have proof of our error. When, for example, we wish to indicate the 537
produce the combined effect of their action; this would only be justified if
purpose of an organic part of some animal, we must first seek to learn
there were one being among them which had represented the entire effect,
all the details of its structure, and then consider what effects, beneficial
willed it, and had somehow brought the other beings to act together in
either for the animal or for other beings, might be brought about by this
the way necessary. The question now arises of when we are justified in
part under favourable circumstances. If we discover one effect which ev-
claiming that the case described above occurs with a given phenomenon,
erything is so suitably arranged to produce that the same effect could not
so that it may be said to have an aim; and also to what extent it is possible
be brought about as well were anything at all different, we may conclude
for us to discover this aim. From concepts alone, we already know that
that the production of this effect is (in general) the genuine purpose of
there is one being, namely, God, that may be considered the ground of
this part, even before we have assured ourselves through experience that
everything which exists and happens in the world; that this being through
the animal uses this part to bring about the effect in question. If we also
its omniscience recognises every effect, and through its holiness wills
observe that this is the case, then our conjecture becomes fully certain
only the good. Thus we may claim of every airnngement or change which
(not, indeed, with respect to all individuals, but only with respect to those
we perceive that it has its aim with respect to God, which consists in
we have perceived to use the part in this way). If the given object has a
all the good brought about through it. We also know at least this much
considerable number of attributes and structures which we do not know
through concepts alone about the intentions of all created beings: that
to be merely results of the remaining ones, and if at the same time these
each of these beings is capable only of willing things that it represents as
must be present in order to bring about the effect we intend to point to as
536 either commanded by reason, or else capable of satisfying its desires and

354 355
 THE ART OF DISCOVERY§. 386.
the purpose of the object, and if, finally, we can think of no other useful
effect that could be the purpose of this object, then the greater the number
of such independent attributes, the greater the probability with which we
infer the correct purpose of the object. For since structures or attributes
which do not result necessarily (i.e., by means of concepts alone) the one
from the other must be together through God's will, it is clear that the ex-
istence of such an object is due not just to one but to several (though not
occurring one after the other in time) divine resolutions, each of which
would have to have a purpose which we could not indicate if the main
538 purpose were not operative.
2) I now turn to the way that the intentions of finite beings must be
determined through experience. We must begin by distinguishing cases
where we already know that a given phenomenon was produced by the
resolution of a being, and hence has a purpose, from those where we do
not know, and must still decide, whether this is the case. (a) The for-
mer case is undoubtedly easier, especially if we also know which being
is responsible for the phenomenon to be explained, and if many of its pe-
culiarities are known to us, notably, the constitution of its cognitive and
appetitive faculties. It is obvious that here we must begin by minutely
examining the action we seek to explain. Next, we consider the diverse
effects or consequences this action might have, not so much in actual-
ity as in the thoughts of the agent, and indeed according to the concepts
which he had at the very moment of forming the resolution (rather than
ideas he acquired after the fact). It is clear that this is usually a very diffi-
cult inquiry. With God, we know that everything that will actually result
is foreseen. With men, and indeed all finite beings, however, we cannot
infer from the fact that an action has a certain result that this result was
foreseen and still less that it was intended. Here we must take account
of the agent's intelligence, how observant and deliberate he is in forming
resolutions, the false ideas he may have of the causal connections between
certain things, and many other circumstances besides, in order to be able
to say with some assurance which consequences he had thought of, or
even could have thought of. But if the thought of a consequence is to
induce a rational being to act, it must not only be represented, but also be
539 such as could be willed. In this circumstance lies a further characteristic
which may often be sufficient to determine intentions. For if we suppose
that among the many consequences we believe that the agent might have
thought of, some are such that their expectation could not have made the
act seem either obligatory or beneficial to the agent, then it is decided
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Particular Rules
that these certainly do not belong to the intention of the agent we are try-
ing to discover. If, after the elimination of all these, only one or several
consequences remain with the peculiarity that the agent either considers
the act which will produce them a moral obligation, or else something
that will satisfy his desires and needs, we rightly surmise that it was one
or several of these consequences which brought about the resolution. In
these (true or merely imagined) consequences, then, lie the genuine in-
tention we sought. And our supposition will become all the more solid
the less we are able to think of any other consequence apart from these
that the agent could have thought of and desired. If we know how the
resolutions, or what amounts to the same, the intentions of the being are
usually constituted, it is obvious that the credibility of our explanation
will increase if the intention we now ascribe to the being is of the same
sort as the others. In the opposite case, our explanation will be examined
all the more rigorously, and can be accepted only if the improbability of
its negation is decidedly greater than the improbability of the assump-
tion that our being has on this occasion departed from his usual way of
acting. Occasionally, the given action is composed of several individual
resolutions which are so constituted that we would be unable to find a
purpose for any of them, unless we presupposed the goal for the entire
action we had surmised according to the rules given so far. It requires no 540
proof that this circumstance increases the probability of our conjecture.
(b) The foregoing shows the difficulties connected with the discovery of
intentions, even when we know that an intention must be present, and also
know the nature of the agent and his intentions to some extent. How much
more tricky this business must be when we do not even know whether a
given phenomenon had a purpose! When we notice phenomena that bear
the greatest similarity to those our own body brings about, we rightly in-
fer that these stem from the presence of similar bodies, and surmise at the
same time that entities similar to our soul reside in these bodies. If we see
changes in these bodies like those which occur in our own when we have
certain ideas and sensations, we surmise that these beings have similar
ideas and sensations. If, finally, we see that they act through their bodies
on other objects, in roughly the same way we ourselves usually do, we
surmise that they have roughly the same intentions that we do when we
act similarly. In continually applying this inference from the similarity of
the effects to the similarity of the causes, we generally arrive at the con-
viction that apart from the human race there are innumerably many other
kinds of sensate beings. But as we almost always only see the kinds of
357
 THE ART OF DISCOVERY§. 386. Particular Rules

actions performed that humans can ped(mn without being distinctly con- are behind an action, we generally content ourselves with indicating a
scious of our own ideas or using reason, and see them do so many things single one or, if indicating several, do not appropriately subordinate one
they would have to avoid if they had reason, we conclude that all of these to the other. It is obvious that in order to avoid this mistake we must
are beings of a lower kind than us, lacking reason. Continued observation pay close attention to all, even the smallest circumstances accompanying
54 l teaches us more about the powers and nature of other objects, which puts the action, as well as the attitudes, needs and circumstances of the agent.
us in a position to decide in many, though not all, cases whether a given (e) Finally, in the special case when we must discover the intentions of
phenomenon was produced intentionally, and if so what the intention was. our own actions, it occurs all too often that we convince ourselves that
In particular, we surmise that a phenomenon before us was intentionally something resulted unintentionally, or that some quite innocent intention
brought about by a being with cognitive powers when we already know lay behind an action when a completely different, secret, intention was
kinds of beings that are able to produce such phenomena, while the ori- responsible. One must have the firm intention to learn the truth about
gin of the phenomenon could only be explained otherwise as the result of oneself, to note not only isolated acts but their circumstances as well, and
numerous circumstances, which are not usually found together, occurring finally consult the judgements of others if one is not to deceive oneself on
at the same time. Such judgements often require weighing the probabil- this point.
ities of many contrary events. Suppose, for example, that a sailor finds
himself on an island where there is no trace of humans ever having been. §.387.
He sees some lines in the sand which are roughly like those in the well-
XXIX. The interpretation of given signs
known figure used to prove the Pythagorean Theorem. At any other place,
we could infer without further ado that these lines had been drawn by a
The problem of interpreting given signs may be considered a special case
human being, but on that island this can still remain doubtful.
of the problem of discovering intentions. By interpretation I mean noth- 543
3) Among the errors that may be committed in attempting to solve
ing other than an indication of the ideas which someone intended to stim-
this problem, let us caution against the following: (a) We are all too used
ulate by producing certain signs (§285); and the word "indicate" means
to inferring from ourselves to others-that is, perceiving a phenomenon
either the production of these ideas in one's own consciousness, or the
which is similar to those we can bring about, we immediately suppose
production of certain other signs which are better known than the given
that the being which produced it had the same intention we would have
ones or belong to a different system of signs, and at the same time serve
had under such circumstances when acting in that way. In order to avoid
to stimulate the same ideas which the original producer of the former
this error as much as possible, we must become acquainted with the dif-
signs had intended. Thus the business of interpretation is not a matter of
ferences between men with respect to their ideas, sensations, wishes, etc.
learning which ideas occurred to the original producer of given signs, but
(b) We often assume that Goel has intentions which He does not in fact
rather of saying which ideas he intended to produce in the minds of oth-
542 have, sometimes because we only consider the (admittedly good) proxi-
ers through these signs. Thus, for example, a liar often has a completely
mal results, and overlook the more remote effects, and sometimes because
different opinion than the one he seeks to produce in us through the signs
our inclinations lead us to claim that something is the will of Gocl-e.g.,
he uses. But we interpret his speech quite correctly as soon as we indicate
if this would allow us to justify our actions. (c) It often happens that we
the ideas he intended to bring about in us. To determine whether he him-
judge that a human or another finite being brought about something inten-
self has these ideas is another problem entirely. It should not be forgotten
tionally when it was accidental, occurring without the knowledge or will
that writer, reader and interpreter can often be one and the same person,
of the being. We are especially in danger of committing this mistake when
as is the case when we want to interpret signs we used earlier to record
the result brings advantages to the being, and it is not sufficiently obvious
our own thoughts.
that these advantages were not foreseen. So too when it brings us joy to be
1) In order to justify the claim that certain signs were produced by
able to ascribe such intentions to others, e.g., when we hate someone, and
someone with the intention of producing such and such ideas in us, we
the intention we ascribe to him is an evil one. (d) When several purposes
must (a) show that there is nothing impossible about a being of this kind

358 359
 THE ART OF DISCOVERY§. 387.
in these circumstances intending to stimulate such ideas in us. Part of
this is to show that it could look upon this task as something which was
either its duty or else would bring it certain benefits. Thus it would have
to believe that the stimulation of such ideas would bring us to recognise
544 some useful truth, or at least bring us pleasure, or else bring honour or
some other actual or merely imagined pleasure or benefit to itself. (b) We
must also show that the being could have considered the signs it used as
the best means of stimulating these ideas among those at its disposal-
showing, e.g., that these signs are either natural or else introduced into
common usage, or were already previously declared by the speaker to be
signs of the given ideas, or resemble these, etc. (c) Our interpretation will
become all the more probable if we show that no other purpose could be
devised for these signs-showing, for example, that these signs consist
of phenomena which have no use apart from stimulating ideas that the
producer could have foreseen and intended.
2) From what has been said it is clear that the interpretation of given
signs is facilitated by first learning who produced them, the circumstances
in which he found himself, his ideas, needs, etc., as well as possible. The
more reasonable someone is, the less we can allow ourselves to interpret
his words in ways which suppose him to commit gross errors. The more
ethical someone is, the less we may ascribe meanings to him which betray
immoral aims, and so on. We must especially strive to learn the nearest
motive the speaker or writer had, and attempt to bring out as much of his
purposes as we may by other means.
3) Even when the sign before us is a single and completely simple one
(§285), and its meaning is conventional but not yet known to us, it may
sometimes be possible to divine the idea the speaker intended to stimulate
545 with it. For if the circumstances in which he finds himself are such that we
may suppose with near certainty that he must have wished to stimulate the
idea a in us, perhaps in order to move us to perform a certain action A, and
we observe that he brings about a change a which we cannot think to have
any purpose other than to stimulate the idea a in us, we may conclude that
he brings about this change with precisely this aim, no matter how little
connection we perceive between the sign a and the idea a. Be the word a
man who suddenly finds himself in mortal danger calls out to us ever so
unknown, we may still conclude quite confidently that he intends to tell us
that we should help him. But if there are many signs occurring together,
occmTing repeatedly in various combinations, it is not necessary that the
meaning we ascribed to an individual sign when it occurs in one case
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Particular Rules
must be the same as the sense the speaker intends it to have in the other
cases. For the same sign may have several, though there are always only
a small number of such meanings, and in most cases they are similar and
derivative. If we succeed in discovering one or more meanings of the kind
described above for each of the individual signs of which a discourse is
composed, which are so constituted that one or the other of them yields
a sense one might expect the speaker to have intended, it becomes quite
probable that he actually intended this sense. It goes without saying that
this business of guessing will be extremely difficult if we do not already
know the meanings of some of the signs, or if we do not know the topic
of the discourse to some extent.
Once we have determined some of the signs, the remaining ones be-
come increasingly easier to determine, since the number of meanings 546
which might be conjectured if an acceptable sense is to be produced be-
comes ever smaller.
4) But if we may suppose (and until the opposite is shown, this must
be supposed to be the case, since it is most common) that the speaker
intended to be understood by the people he spoke to, then we may also
suppose that he chose his signs in accordance with this purpose. And
this supposition becomes all the more certain the greater his acquain-
tance with his interlocutors. In such cases we may thus suppose that the
speaker uses signs which are already known to his interlocutors unless
obliged to do otherwise, and uses these signs only with the meanings al-
ready known to them; he does not use new signs, or old signs with new
meanings without having previously defined their senses; he does not use
the same sign now in one sense, now in another, without making sure
that the context will make apparent the meaning in which the sign was
taken; he must have expected that when he uses a sign in one sense, he
takes it in the same sense when it is used immediately afterwards, so
long as this interpretation gives rise to a sense we might have expected
of him, and he himself gives no hint that he means to depart from this
meaning. Understandably, many rules for the business of interpretation
flow from these assumptions, especially for the case where we have not
merely a fragment of a discourse but a self-standing (and hence in itself
comprehensible) whole. As an example of one of these rules, if we must
determine the meaning of a hithe1to unknown sign, we must assemble as
many passages from the given composition as we can, and attempt to dis-
cover a meaning which would yield a sense in all these passages that we
could expect from the speaker; and if we convince ourselves that we can- 547
361
 THE ART OF DISCOVERY§. 387.
not manage this with a single meaning, we must attempt this with two,
three or more. In such circumstances, i.e., when we may not suppose
more meanings than necessary in order to produce a reasonable sense in
each passage, passages which are highly indeterminate when considered
alone may nevertheless be very useful in discovering the meaning we
seek. For even if infinitely many concepts would produce an acceptable
sense in one passage, there may be only one which works for the second
passage. Generally speaking, sentences in which the sign stands for either
the subject- or the predicate-idea, while the remaining signs are already
known, prove to be especially useful for the determination of a meaning.
For if we have several sentences of the form "Every X is A" or "No X is
B" or else several of the form "Every Mis X" or "No N is X", where we
already know A,B,M,N, then we may (provided we do not suspect the
speaker to have been mistaken in these propositions) immediately infer
that X designates an idea which is not higher than the ideas A, not-B, and
not-N, and not lower than the idea M. If the extension of one of the ideas
here represented by A, not-B, and not-N comes quite close to that of the
idea designated by M, or if these extensions coincide, then the extension
of the idea Xis either nearly or completely determined. Yet we might still
err concerning the content of this idea. But if we consider the sentences
in which X occurs more closely, and assume that the speaker has not pro-
duced useless tautologies, merely analytic or identical propositions, we
may infer that none of the ideas A, not-B, and not-N is a constituent of
548 X, and also that X itself is not a constituent of M. In this way, we learn
more and more parts of which X does not consist, and hence the number
of those which we still seek becomes ever smaller, especially since the
ideas people find worthwhile to designate with their own signs are never
composed of a great many parts, and are not redundant. On account of
this last circumstance, the infinite multitude of ideas equivalent to a given
one is reduced to a moderate number, and it is usually easy enough using
the method just described to discover which of these the speaker intended
to connect with X. If we are aware that the discourse we are to explain
has the purpose of instruction, or of demonstration, we may also assume
that X designates an idea such that the propositions containing it which
are not proven are already obvious, but the propositions which are proved
are not, and only become known through the former. This circumstance
furnishes a means which, in combination with others, may serve to deter-
mine the meaning of a sign. But the easiest and most secure means (when
this is possible) is when the speaker himself indicates to us, using signs
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Partirnlar Rules
we already know, what ideas are combined to form the idea designated by
the unknown sign. But even this means may fail, if the author has made a
mistake in his definition (as happens even with practised authors).
5) If the signs that someone uses already have a meaning firmly fixed
by common usage, it is to be surmised that he takes them in this sense
unless there is an explicit indication of the contrary; yet this rule has ex-
ceptions. For people sometimes depart from the usual meaning of a sign
through ignorance, having misunderstood it, and not even being aware
that they understand and use it differently; sometimes people are moved
to take words in new and unusual senses, because they believe that the 549
new concept they have in mind would be best designated in this way;
sometimes, finally, it is merely the desire of novelty, which finds plea-
sure in every departure from the ordinary. Thus if we find that the usual
meaning does not yield a sense we might expect from the speaker, it is
necessary to seek another sense that fits, all the more so if any of the rea-
sons just mentioned lead us to think that the speaker has not retained the
usual meaning.
6) If someone comes to speak of the same object several times, it
may be surmised that he will make, if not the same, at least compatible
claims about it, especially if this occurs in a brief interval of time and in
similar circumstances (e.g., when speaking to the same people). If what
he says in one passage is distinct, i.e., its sense may be determined with
sufficient certainty, we may make use of it in the interpretation of other,
more obscure passages. Given several possible interpretations, some of
them compatible with the distinct passage and others not, we may only
declare one of the former to be correct.
7) If we have somehow discovered one sense that someone intended
to express through his signs, we may not immediately suppose that his
intention was directed at this sense and no other besides. For it is also
possible that someone intended to stimulate more than one proposition in
the minds of his interlocutors (or readers) though the same signs. It may
occur to anyone with some skill of expression to speak in such a way, and
even such a person cannot always be sure that people will understand the
several senses of his discourse, rather than only one of them. We have
plenty of examples of cases where lively-minded people make use of the
occasions provided by life in society to make statements which not only 550
fit the present topic of conversation, but also can, and are intended to be,
looked upon as pointing to completely different truths. Thus if we want
to have a complete and exhaustive interpretation, we must never be sat-
363
 THE ART OF DISCOVERY§. 387.
isfied with having found one sense for the signs before us. Rather, we
must see whether there is also a second sense that we may also attribute
to the speaker's intention. We may do this if (a) we show that the speaker
neither lacked the necessary knowledge, nor the attentiveness required in
the present case, in order to perceive that his words could also be taken
in this second sense; and further (b) that the production of this second
meaning was something that he might have aimed at, either for moral
reasons or from some other natural motivation; and that finally (c) there
were many signs he might have used had he intended to express only
one sense, while only the signs he chose to use, which are either unusual
or awkwardly combined, make the second sense possible. But there is
another case where we may claim that someone intended his discourse
to have several senses, namely, when he speaks to several people, and
would like to prompt certain ideas in some of these people and different
ones in others. Since different ideas need not be incompatible, it is under-
standable that this can occur without intending to deceive either of these
groups, still less to lie to them. Now if we really do attribute such a dou-
ble meaning to a given discourse, we must, if our interpretation is to be
complete, indicate both of these senses, and also point out which of these
551 was intended for whom. It is obvious that in this case we proceed roughly
in the same way as in the previous case, only we judge based upon the
nature of the persons to whom the discourse was aclclressecl which of them
the speaker intended to understand in one way and which in the other.
8) Finally, it is not seldom the case that someone does not wish us to
be able to know precisely which ideas he intended to stimulate through
his speech, i.e., when the speaker is deliberately obscure. In this case we
have clone our duty as interpreters as soon as we have proved that this was
his intention. For this, we must show (a) that the speaker found himself
in circumstances where he could have been led to form such an intention,
as would be the case, for instance, if he was forced to say something on
a given subject, but feared that a specific declaration would cause harm
to himself or others; and also (b) if he had not intended to be obscure, he
could easily have expressed himself clearly and definitely.
9) The infinite being, i.e., God himself may figure among the beings
which can have the intention of awakening ideas in us through signs. The
question thus arises of determining more precisely the rules for this spe-
cial case. Whenever we perceive a phenomenon which either turns out
to produce very beneficial ideas in us, or else can be foreseen to do so,
we may always say that this phenomenon is a sign through which God
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Particular Rules
speaks to us. And the content of what he says to us here, or the inter-
pretation of his speech, consists precisely in those beneficial ideas which
we may produce in ourselves through an appropriate consideration of the
phenomenon. This much, in my opinion, follows from a correct con-
ception of God's providence and the definition of a sign set out in §285.
From God's providence, it follows that Goel intends everything good in 552
the world which either happens or can happen. If it is certain enough that
ideas which are or can be produced in us through the consideration of a
phenomenon are good and beneficial, then it is also certain that among
the reasons which determined God to produce this phenomenon was that
of stimulating these ideas in us. Thus if we call any phenomenon which
a thinking being produces with the intention (either complete or merely
partial) of stimulating certain ideas in others a sign of these ideas, we
must also recognise in the case just mentioned signs through which God
speaks to us. And it is obvious that these signs can only be interpreted
according to the given principles.
10) If, finally, we are required to present the (already discovered)
meaning of signs through other signs (perhaps better known, or belong-
ing to a different system), we need only follow the rules governing the ex-
pression of one's own thoughts, some of which were mentioned in §344
and others of which will be mentioned in the sequel.
Note. Along with me, others have distinguished between the inter-
pretation of a given discourse and the search for the opinion the author
really had, yet many of them have not held firmly to this distinction. Thus
KRUG (L., § 179) says quite correctly that "the interpretation is supposed
to show what thoughts the author intended to connect with the expres-
sions he actually used"; but immediately afterwards, in a note, one reads:
"the interpreter of a writing is nothing other than the historical transmitter
of another's thought." Not so: as interpreters, we do not have to divine the
thoughts of another, at least not his thoughts on the topic he speaks of, but
rather we must divine the thoughts the author intended to produce in the 553
minds of his readers. The claim has made its way into most recent trea-
tises of logic and hermeneutics that one may only suppose a single sense
for any given passage. If by the sense of a passage one means the collec-
tion of all ideas that the speaker intended to stimulate in the minds of his
interlocutors or readers, then each passage would admittedly have only
one sense by definition. But this was not what they meant, as is shown
by the fact that people have already disputed this claim. The proponents
of this claim are of the opinion that every passage (every combination
365
 THE ART OF DISCOVERY§. 387.
of signs) which expresses a certain proposition could not according to
the speaker's intention express another proposition. I admit that multiple
senses are rare, and form a kind of exception; but that multiple senses
would be something contradictory and hence should never be supposed,
I cannot accept. When we complain frequently about the intentional am-
biguity someone permits himself; when we object that he has studiously
used expressions that can be and are interpreted now one way, now an-
other, does this not simply say that such a man meant his words to have
a double sense? Here, indeed, this occurs not with one interlocutor, but
with several. Yet just as it is possible to bring it about that our words are
understood differently by different interlocutors, so too is it possible to
bring it about that the double meaning of our words occurs to one and the
same interlocutor and, in addition, that he may observe that both senses
were intended. How often do witty people answer questions in a way
which not only provides the demanded reply but also point to something
else altogether-paying a compliment to one of those present, or rebuk-
ing someone, or revealing a long-fostered wish, etc. This kind of double
meaning is not to be confused with the so-called allegory, nor with what
theologians usually mean by the higher or secret meaning of a passage.
One who presents an allegory, e.g., that of the wolf and the lamb, does
554 not really intend us to believe the literal sense of his words, i.e., that a
lamb was really taken to task by a wolf. Rather, the entire story is only a
means to convey knowledge of another kind to us. Thus one can say that,
at bottom, his discourse has only one sense. What theologians call the
higher or secret sense of a passage is not generally and demonstrably a
sense that the author intended along with the other literal sense, but rather
an interpretation of something God intended (using the speaker as an in-
strument). What was said above in no. 9 about God speaking to us and
how his discourse is to be interpreted is so briefly sketched that I cannot
hope for it to pass without dispute. I merely recall that this sort of divine
speech to us should not be confused with the kind that is called a divine
revelation or testimony in the strictest sense. If we only conclude that
God intended such and such phenomena to produce such and such ideas
in us because these ideas are beneficial for us, we may not say that these
ideas were revealed to us by God. The next section deals with what must
also be added if this is to be the case. - The well known canon that one
must explain obscure passages with the help of clearer ones but not the
other way around is quite correct in the sense in which it is actually taken;
for it is usually understood to mean "one should use what may be safely
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Particular Rules
gathered from one passage in determining the senses of another, where it
cannot." But if we took the rule as literally expressed, we would have to
declare it incorrect. For one call~ a pass~ge clear or obscure only insofar
as one may or may not gather with certamty what is expressed in it. But
in this sense a passage may be exceedingly obscure, and yet still be used
in the interpretation of another passage which is less obscure. As obscure
as the former may be, it may nevertheless make clear enough the meaning
of a certain doubtful expression in another passage. - Against the uni- 555
versality of the canon that anyone who speaks intends to be understood I
have brought the case (no. 8), already mentioned by others, of someone
who intentionally expresses himself in a way that people cannot gather
his meaning. In such cases, by the way, one might as.k whether som~~ne
is indeed speaking, i.e., producing signs. For accord~ng to the de~mtion
of a sign, someone who produces signs effects certam changes with the
purpose of stimulating definite ideas in us. ~ut sot~eone wh_o .do~s not
intend to be understood does not aim at the st1mulat10n of defimte ideas.
One is almost justified in saying that he only intends to appear to speak,
but does not actually do so. But in a wider sense one .may sa~ that he
. and one (as I did above) may take the interpretation of his speech
speak s, · f h
to consist in the indication of his intention to leave us uncertam o w at
he is actually saying.
§.388.
XXX. Discovery of available testimony
The reader will recall from §306 that by testimony I mean any change
which someone brings about with the determinate intention that someone
else, if he proceeds according to his best insig.ht: will ?raw t?~ c?nclu-
sion from the consideration of the change that 1t 1s the former s will that
i:
he accept a certain opinion, because he hims~lf ~olds to be t~·u~. Most
of the knowledge we obtain through commumcatlon with others 1s based
upon testimony in this sense of the word. Now if we are not to o~er­
look much of the testimony that is presented to us, nor to take so~ethmg
for testimony when in fact it is not, some instruction on the discovery
of available testimony is necessary. I will indicate the most ge~eral c~n­
cepts upon which such instruction is. based. In my vie:", the. bemg which
556
testifies may be either the infinite bemg or another, fimte bem~.
1) If God himself wishes to testify, he must produ~e a certam chm:ge-
either immediately or mediately-which is so constituted that we, if we
367
 THE ART OF DISCOVERY§. 388.
follow our best insight, must draw the conclusion that it is His will that
we accept a certain teaching as true because He himself recognises its
truth. The first thing, then, is to discover an individual proposition or col-
lection of propositions which are so constituted that when we associate
certain other circumstances with them we must look upon them as truths
that God wishes us to believe. If we find that these propositions con-
tain something demonstrably false, or that belief in them would harm our
virtue, then we certainly may not give any room for the thought that God
wants us to believe such teachings. When, on the contrary, we recognise
not that the truth of these teachings, but that belief in them (if this should
somehow be possible) would be beneficial for our virtue and happiness,
then there is no doubt that God wants us to look for reasons which would
establish their truth. If this reason is to be testimony from God himself,
then we must perceive an event which presents a sign of this divine tes-
tifying. Such an event obviously cannot be an everyday occurrence. For
not only would there be nothing to draw our attention, there would also be
no reason to surmise that a phenomenon that is so ordinary has, in addi-
tion to its ordinary purpose, also that of authenticating divine testimony.
Thus the event must be unusual, i.e., must somehow or other conflict with
the rules according to which events usually follow one another. Events
like these involuntarily draw our attention and make us wish to know the
557 purpose for which God, as the ultimate cause of all events and hence of
these as well, brought it about either immediately or mediately. But since
the purposes of God can only consist in the promotion of the virtue and
happiness of his creatures, the question of what purpose He had in pro-
ducing this event is the same as the question of what use it can be for
us. Now if the unusual occutTence is connected with the previously men-
tioned propositions, if it is the proximate or remote cause of our having
learned of them, then insofar as we may suppose that it has the purpose of
serving as a sign of God's will that we believe these propositions, we have
discovered a good that God might reasonably have aimed at in bringing
it about. And if we find that in the absence of recognising such a sign
in the event we could find no good that it might have aimed at, then we
may conclude, in accordance with the rules of §385, that this collection
of propositions is a genuine divine revelation. It is certainly true that this
event might also have a use we do not perceive, and hence that we would
not be justified in saying that it would be purposeless if it was not in-
tended to testify in favour of these propositions; it is also true that we may
sometimes be mistaken in our expectation of the good that will come of
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Particular Rules
believing certain teachings; yet we must hold to the most probable, and in
so doing assume not just hypothetically but with complete certainty that
God would not allow us to fall into such a harmful error. Accordingly, we
may look upon a given teaching as authenticated (revealed) by God with
full confidence if we find that: (a) the proposition of which the teaching
consists is such that we hope to become better and happier by accepting
it; and in addition (b) there are certain extraordinary events which draw 558
our attention to these teachings, to which the teachings owe their origin,
preservation or spread, which are so constituted that we can perceive no
purpose their existence might have if we did not admit that they are a sign
of God's will that we believe the teaching.
2) If the witness is not God, but a finite being, in particular a hu-
man being, then (a) the first thing we must do is to inquire whether the
phenomenon which is supposed to constitute the testimony was indeed
produced by this being, and indeed wittingly and willingly. It must be
possible (b) to indicate a being the witness acted upon, or hoped to act
upon, through the change, and indeed in such a way that the idea of the
proposition to which he testified, as well as the will to accept it, are either
actually or presumably produced in the mind of the second being. It must
be (c) comprehensible how the will to give such testimony could have
arisen in the being; for this, it is necessary either that he looked upon this
as a duty or else as something which was to his advantage. Finally, (d)
there may be no other purpose which we may discover his action to have
had were it not that of giving testimony.
Note. The theory of indicators of revelation sketched in no. 1 does not
really belong in general logic. It is mentioned here only to draw attention
to a view which I believe not only to agree perfectly with the common
judgement of mankind, but also to resolve many difficulties which can
scarcely be avoided with the ideas usually encountered in treatises of the-
ology. But although it may have been acceptable to mention this theory
here, this is no place for a detailed exposition or defence of it. 559
§.389.
XXXI. Investigating the credibility of given witnesses
Once we know that a certain phenomenon is testimony, we may inves-
tigate whether we should believe the testimony, i.e., accept as true the
proposition which is its content, even in case we have no other ground
for its truth apart from the authority of the witness. The degree of prob-
ability with which we may do so is called the credibility of the witness.
369
 THE ART OF DISCOVERY §. 389.
Understandably, in most if not all cases, two things are involved in es-
timating this credibility: first, the degree to which we are able to assure
ourselves that our witness himself is of the opinion he puts forth; and the
confidence with which we may infer the truth of an opinion from the fact
that he holds it. If we suppose the probability of the former to be = x,
and that of the second to be = y, then the probability that the proposition
acquires merely through the testimony is = x. y.
1) The first matter involves the question of whether the witness had
the intention of making known to us what he himself holds to be true. We
must therefore investigate whether and to what degree we may convince
ourselves that such an intention was present. With finite beings, and in
particular humans, we must here look into the following: (a) whether the
nature of the subject the witness pronounced on and the circumstances in
which he found himself were of the sort that would make a lie (a mis-
representation of what appears to him to be true) impossible for him, in
that his duty as well as his own advantage required him to say what he
himself held to be true. To this inquiry belongs, in particular, the ques-
tion of whether our witness might have worried about whether a lie, had
560 he chosen to tell one, would have been immediately detected and thus
bring shame and punishment upon himself. (b) If this is not the case
we must inquire further whether the witness is known to be a man of ~
righteous disposition, who may be expected to tell the truth. We must
ask, in particular, if (c) he has given proof of a particular love of truth.
We may suppose this to be the case if he has already said many things in
cases where some natural inclination or other of the heart might have led
him to remain silent, if he did not have the principle and ruling disposi-
tion to bear witness to the truth. If we find nothing of this kind, we must
(d) investigate whether, on the contrary, he has betrayed his opinion that
it is sometimes permissible to lie, namely, for the sake of pious ends; and
whether this delusion might have led him in the present case to give false
testimony with a peaceful conscience in this case. We must (e) investi-
gate whether he might obtain or hope to obtain certain advantages from
his statement or whether, on the contrary, it is disadvantageous to him, in
such a way that he can foresee the disadvantages. We must (f) consider
whether the circumstances under which the testimony was delivered con-
tained an increased obligation to report the unadulterated truth, as is the
case in court, where testimony is given under oath, etc., or whether, on the
contrary, the circumstances provide at least an apparent excuse for lying,
as when he is interrogated by people who have no authority to investigate
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Partirnlar Rules
him. We must (g) see whether he might belong to the sort of men who
find pleasure in deceiving others, or who have become so accustomed
to lying that they do so even when it promises no advantage, and even
without being distinctly aware of doing so; (h) whether the desire to say
something striking, or the spirit of contradiction might have led him in
the absence of any bias to depart from the truth; (i) whether the very way
that he conducts himself in giving his testimony gives us good grounds 56 l
to doubt his veracity, as would be the case if he speaks to us in a highly
emotional state or when visibly confused, or if he takes a long time to
think before responding to questions that are easily answered by those
who only wish to tell the truth, etc.; (k) whether any of his actions lead us
to suspect him to hold another opinion.
2) If we have discovered whether and with what degree of probability
we may assume that a witness actually believes what he tells us, the next
thing is to investigate whether and with what probability we may suppose
that he has not erred in his opinion, i.e., that he has knowledge of the mat-
ter at hand. Here, when dealing with a finite being, namely, a man, we
must be attentive to the following things: (a) whether his previous knowl-
edge and his intelligence might be too limited to permit him to grasp a
truth of the kind he testifies in favour of; (b) whether, insofar as percep-
tions are necessarily involved in grasping the truth, he has the necessary
sensory organs, which are in a healthy condition; (c) whether he found
himself in the appropriate place, at the appropriate time, to make the per-
ceptions required to lead him to such a truth; (d) whether other objects
mioht
b
have distracted him at this time. Thus someone who is in mortal
danger may think only of how to survive, and hence be in no position
to notice much else. So too scholars may be so absorbed in their reflec-
tions that they are unaware of significant events occuning around them.
(e) Whether the witness' imagination was overly vivid, or was overstim-
ulated in this case, whereby it might happen that he imagined that he saw
things which did not in fact occur; (f) whether he had preconceived opin-
ions that exercised a detrimental influence on his judgement; (g) whether
he was too hasty in forming his judgement; (h) whether it is credible that 562
he retained what he told us in memory from the moment he learned it
until the time he told us or wrote it down in his notebook. Here one must
ask whether it made a deep or only a shallow impression on his mind;
whether there were many other similar ideas in his mind that might have
led to confusion; whether one may surmise that he recalled the matter
frequently or infrequently in the interim, etc.; (i) whether he has changed
371
 THE ART OF DISCOVERY§. 389.
his mind often on the subject, and for what reasons; (k) whether we may
assume the presence of various things required to know about the matter
in question based merely on the witness' word (as is the case, for exam-
ple, when someone assures us that he was present, had the appropriate
instruments, etc.), or whether we have reason to distrust what he says
about this.
3) If the witness whose knowledge we must judge provides mediate
testimony, i.e., if his testimony is based upon the testimony of another,
then his knowledge of the matter at hand depends on whether he correctly
understood the witness upon whose testimony he based his belief, and
whether the latter was trustworthy. We must also consider whether our
witness has the knowledge required to assess the credibility of a given
witness.
4) It is also worth mentioning that there are a couple of cases in
which the credibility of a witness may be directly inferred, that is, without
first showing that he had the intention and the ability to report the truth.
(a) The first is when we have several statements from the witness which
are all demonstrably correct, and when it is completely impossible to see
what peculiarity the present statement (the truth of which we must test)
might have which would lead him to be deceived or to want to deceive
563 us. Such a case occurs, for instance, when the knowledge the witness has
shown through other statements is such that we may infer from it that he
must also have knowledge concerning the statement under examination
and, in addition, there is no conceivable ground which might have deter-
mined him to produce an untruth here rather than elsewhere, as occurs
when he has no advance knowledge of which statements of his we are to
put to the test. (b) The other case occurs when the witness gives such a
complete account of something that we cannot suspect that he would be
able to conceive all this if it were not true. Thus when an uneducated
man reports an eloquent saying he claims to have heard from someone
else, we may confidently conclude that he speaks truly. Yet it should
not be forgotten that the inference drawn in (a) above from the truth of
other statements to the truth of the one under examination is only valid
when the specified conditions are met. For if other circumstances obtain
with the statement under examination, it may admittedly be the case that
the witness lacks the requisite knowledge of the matter at hand or the
will to communicate the truth. For similar reasons, the demonstrated in-
correctness of many statements a witness has made need not cast doubt
on the veracity of what he says in a certain other case, if it appears that
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Particular Rules
the grounds that made his other statements unreliable are absent-e.g.,
if in the other cases he lacked the requisite knowledge or was in a posi-
tion where he would be tempted to distort the truth. Thus the statement
of a witness concerning the sensible phenomena that could be observed
on a certain occasion might be quite credible, even if his judgements on
their cause should be rejected. (c) Finally, there is a third case, one which
occurs quite infrequently, where the statement of a witness becomes cred-
ible even though we find that he has neither knowledge of the matter at
hand nor the intention of speaking truly. This occurs in cases where cir- 564
cumstances are such that we may conclude with great probability that the
witness is mistaken, but also that he had the intention to deceive us, and
accordingly tells us something he thinks to be false while in fact it is true.
Note. Usually people require that a witness be competent and sincere
in order to be credible, and that, in addition to what I called knowledge
of the matter at hand in no. 2, he must also have the ability to express
what he intends to communicate to us in a comprehensible way; one calls
a witness sincere, however (or honest or veracious) if he has the intention
to communicate what appears to him to be true. In my view, a witness'
ability to express himself in a comprehensible way does not belong so
much to the requirements of being a credible witness as to those required
for the apprehension of testimony. For insofar as we do not understand
what a witness intends to communicate to us, he has in fact not commu-
nicated anything, and thus we have not apprehended any testimony at all.
But I do think that the above terms are poorly chosen to designate the
property according to which a witness intends to communicate to us what
he takes to be true in a given case. Sincerity, honesty, veracity are words
which in common usage designate virtues that a witness must possess in
some, though not all, cases where we find him credible. We may even
trust a statement of a person who often lies if the circumstances are such
as to make it impossible for him to lie in a particular case. The word
truthfulness might be more appropriate in this case, though we have seen
in no. 4 that it is incorrect to think that knowledge of the matter at hand
and the intention to communicate the truth are indispensable conditions
for the credibility of a witness, since we may sometimes be able to credit
a witness' statement even though we know that the witness neither knows
the truth nor has the will to communicate to us what he takes to be true. 565
373
 THE ART OF DISCOVERY§. 390.
§.390.
XXXll. Determining the credibili(y of a proposition based on
the opinions of all those who either accept or reject it
In §331, I recommended consulting the opinions of all who either ac-
cept or reject a given proposition as a means that is quite useful in many
cases for discovering the truth, or at least for attaining a high degree of
confidence in one's judgements. Here I shall simply describe in greater
detail how one should proceed. ( 1) First, it is obvious that we should
count ourselves among the number of those who either accept or reject
the proposition in question if we have grounds either for or against its
truth that are not merely drawn from the consideration of which other
people accept or reject it. The essentials of reckoning the degree of cred-
ibility conferred on a proposition through a combination of several in-
ternal or external grounds have already been presented in § 161, no. 17.
(2) If we want to estimate the increase in the credibility of a proposi-
tion due to the appearance of testimony or in general through someone
else's opinion, it is necessary to distinguish two cases, the first where
the other person must either affirm or deny our proposition if he is not
to leave it completely undecided, and the second where we ask in such
a way that many other answers are possible. An example of the former
is when we ask someone whether the ball no. 1 was drawn from an urn;
an example of the latter is when the witness of his own free will tells us,
without having consulted others, that the ball no. 1 was drawn. It is easy
to see that in the latter case people who, individually, are only capable
566 of conferring a small probability on the proposition may, through their
agreement, produce a satisfactory guarantee when there are many ways
that their statements might have differed from each other. If the number
of answers that might have been expected with equal probability was = n,
and if we receive the same answer from the p witnesses whose respective
I II
degrees of credibility are represented by the fractions r~s, r':s', /~s", ...
-if, for example there were n balls in an urn and the p witnesses all
reported that the only ball drawn from the urn was ball no. 1-I reckon
the degree of probability that this event gains through the combined testi-
. (11-l)(p-l).,-././'....
mony of all the witness to be (n--J)(p-J).,-.,-'.,-" .... +s·s'·s" ..... If this formula
is correct, then it is apparent that r may be quite small compared to s, and
1
1 quite small compared to s', etc., but if n becomes larger, the value of
the fraction may come quite close to unity. If, for example, all of the r
were equal to s, i.e., if all the witnesses were dubitable, speaking truth as
374
Particular Rules
( -l)(p-1)
often as not, then the credibility of the event would be (n~t)ip-ll+t' which
may be brought as close to unity as one wishes, either by increasing n
while keeping p constant or, keeping n constant (provided that n > 2) and
increasing p. (3) It is clear that the case we just considered would not
occur if, among the many witnesses we find to be in agreement, there
are some who formed their opinions later, based upon the opinions of the
others who had formed theirs earlier. Even so, when we become aware
that this has occurred it may still increase our trust in the earlier witnesses
considerably, provided that closer examination shows that the later wit-
nesses know how to test the credibility of those they are asked to believe.
(4) It is more complicated when we meet not only with people who speak
in favour of a proposition M, but also those who speak against it. Above 567
all, one must beware here of not being too hasty in such cases, i.e., not to
falsely believe that one statement conflicts with another simply because it
sounds different. A genuine conflict may only be supposed if one person's
statement either explicitly denies the other's proposition (explicit contra-
diction); or if the former claims something that stands in the relation of
incompatibility with the other's proposition (contrariety in the narrower
sense); or, finally, if he says nothing when he would have had every rea-
son to confirm the other's statement had he not taken it to be false (tacit
contradiction). I need not add that in the case of such conflicts, the num-
ber of people who stand on the two sides should not merely be counted,
but also their importance should be estimated. We should, however, avoid
overestimating the weight of the party to which we ourselves belong. If
others are more practised thinkers than we are, or (if the matter involves
perception) if they are better observers than we are, we must in fairness
trust their judgements more than our own. If the assumption of veracity
(the will to speak the truth in a particular case) has the same probability
for several witnesses, then understandably the most credible among them
will be the one for whom the assumption that he has knowledge of the
matter at hand is the most probable. Now when there are no other dif-
ferences, for instance, of intelligence or attentiveness, the truth is more
easily and securely known the more immediately it is inferred from the
perceptions that have been made. Hence it is rightly said that, all other
.
things being equal, an immediate witness is to be preferred to a mediate
one, an eyewitness to an earwitness, the nearer witness to the farther, etc.
(5) The statement of a witness who lacks either the necessary knowledge
of the matter at hand or veracity can at most be counted among those
speaking in favour of a proposition in the case where, uniting these flaws, 568
375
 THE ART OF DISCOVERY§. 390.
he hits upon the truth. Otherwise we must look upon his testimony as a
ground against the truth of the proposition. But every ground against the
truth of a claim that has credibility m may be considered a ground for it
with credibility I - m. (6) The circumstance that given witnesses contra-
dict one another in certain respects weakens our confidence in the points
where they agree in some cases, but strengthens it in others. The former
happens if the only thing that may be gathered from the disagreement is
that they (either some or all of them) lack either knowledge of the matter
at hand or else the necessary veracity. The latter occurs when we gather
that the witnesses did not consult one another, and that where one of them
lacked either knowledge or veracity, the other had either better knowledge
or a firmer intention to tell the truth. Our trust will be greater especially
in cases where we are convinced that it was not the intention to misrep-
resent the truth, but rather the attempt to bring it to light that caused the
divergences between the witnesses. (7) Mere hearsay and rumours whose
source is unknown, even legends elating from remote times may be worthy
of belief if there is no good explanation for how they might have arisen
and spread if what they recount (if not in every detail, at least on the main
points) had not actually happened. (8) Finally, if we consult the opinion
of someone who is himself not certain of what he advances, it is obvious
that the credibility of his statement is reduced by this circumstance. But
if he admits his uncertainty of his own free will, our trust in his veracity
as well as in his insight can increase, in that we are able to gather that
he is not hasty in his judgements, and feels no shame in admitting his
569 uncertainty.
§.391.
XXXIII. Discovering new truths about a given object
There remains, finally, the consideration of a problem to which most sci-
ences owe the expansion of their domains. It is the problem that asks no
more of us than to discover new truths that are specified only by indicat-
ing the object they are supposed to concern. This object in its turn may
either be completely determined, in that one indicates an idea A applying
exclusively to it, or else only partly determined, in that one indicates that
the object is one of those standing under a given idea A. An example
of the first sort would be the problem of discovering new, previously un-
known reports about Alexander the Great; an example of the latter would
be the request to hear something about prehistoric creatures that are now
376
Particular Rules
extinct, where we are in no way asked to say something that applies to all
of these creatures, but only to say something previously unknown about
one of them, e.g., about Megatherion.
l) If some truths about the given object are already known to us, it
will be appropriate to recall many, if not all, of them since it is quite
possible that from these, either on their own or else in combination with
truths belonging to some other domain entirely, we shall be able to de-
duce new propositions (as was recommended in §328). If, for example,
we were required to discover a previously unobserved prope1iy of a (loga-
rithmic) spiral, and we begin by thinking of the known properties of such
curves, e.g., about the method of determination, which involves only a
given point, a given straight line, and a given angle, it occurs to us im-
mediately that every point in this line has a situation that is similar to 570
every other, and that in particular the curvature is uniform in all points,
from which it follows that this spiral (and not, as NEWTON supposed,
a parabola) should be used to represent the way in which a given line
changes its curvature in a point.
2) But it is not only by seeking consequences of truths already known
to us that we may atTive at previously unknown truths, for this may also
happen when we inquire into the grounds from which they are deducible.
And the latter may be all the more useful since an appropriate combi-
nation of them would to all appearance allow us to deduce even more
truths than the ones we began with. If, for example, we inquire about the
ground of the fact that reason makes it our duty not to torment animals
aimlessly, it becomes obvious that this happens because we should act
in general in such a way that the happiness of the whole increases. But
from this truth we may deduce a considerable number of other, previously
unknown truths.
3) A third procedure consists in forming propositions at random ac-
cording to §329, and then inquiring whether any are true. Understandably,
this procedure will only be advantageous if the probability that there is a
true proposition among those we have formed is not too small, and if the
investigation of whether the propositions are true does not surpass our
powers. Depending on the varied natures of the objects the truths we
seek are supposed to concern and the nature of the truths already known
to us, the way to proceed in this may vary considerably. If among the
already known truths there is one whose subject-idea is not as wide as
A (as the domain concerning which the sought truths must not surpass),
nothing is more suitable than to inquire whether this proposition can be 571
377
 THE ART OF DISCOVERY§. 391.
generalised without affecting its truth. i.e., whether it would still remain
true if we replaced its subject-idea with a wider one; or whether in partic-
ular we might be able to delete one of the constituents of the subject-idea.
If it turns out that the proposition in question remains true even when we
remove the constituent a from the subject-idea [S]a, or when some other
higher idea T is put in the place of [S]a, this discovery is always a most
welcome one. For if the extension of the proposition is not in fact broad-
ened by simplifying its subject-idea, we learn that this idea, as it was first
constituted, was redundant, and that the truth "All S are I,'' holds. But if
the idea S is higher than [S]a, or if the higher idea T that replaces [S]a
is not a mere constituent of [S]a, then the truth that we have just learned
has a wider extension than the one we started with, and is thus doubtless
important. This even holds if the ideas Sor Tare wider than A, for in that
case the truth we discover, although it is not of the sort we set out to find,
is nevertheless noteworthy, and may be useful for other purposes. If, for
example, we investigate whether the truth that triangles are similar when
two sides and the angle they include are similar can be generalised, we
hit upon the discovery of the far more general proposition that things in
general are similar if their determining elements are similar. Even though
the latter proposition may be far more general than the truths we set out
to discover, as when, e.g., if we had only set out to discover geometrical
truths, it is nonetheless worth bearing in mind, since it can be a fruitful
source of new discoveries, even in geometry. If every generalisation we
572 undertake with the subject-idea of a given proposition destroys the truth
of the proposition, we surmise that it cannot be generalised, so that the
subject-idea S and the concretum P corresponding to its predicate are a
pair of equivalent concepts. Thus it would be appropriate to investigate
the correctness of this conjecture or, what amounts to the same, whether
the proposition that every P is an S is true. Since this proposition is called
the converse of the former, one may also say that we intend to investigate
whether this proposition may be converted. A considerable number of
very beautiful truths, especially in the mathematical sciences, are discov-
ered precisely through such attempts to convert propositions. If the at-
tempted generalisation of the proposition "Sis P" does not succeed, i.e.,
if every time we replace S by a higher idea we obtain a false proposition,
then it may be possible to obtain a true proposition by suitably broaden-
ing the idea Pat the same time, i.e., if we replace P with a certain higher
idea Q. For even if the property p does not belong to all T, the property q,
which has a wider extension than p, may belong to all T. Thus broadening
378
Particular Rules
both subject- and predicate-ideas is a quite useful means of discovering
new truths, whether we do this by omitting certain constituents of p or by
replacing it with another idea altogether. If, for instance, we have found
that a circle may be circumscribed around every quadrangle whose oppo-
site angles sum to two right angles, we may immediately conjecture that
every quadrangle may be circumscribed by some smt of curve of which
the circle is a special case; we then find that this curve is an ellipse. Just
as we can arrive at new truths by attempting to broaden the subject-idea
of a given truth by omitting some of its constituents, it is also useful to 573
alter certain constituents in this idea, i.e., to replace them with others,
especially if we make a corresponding change in the predicate-idea at the
curve for which the equation y2 = *(
same time. If, for example, we know that in every ellipse, i.e., every
a 2 - x 2 ) holds, there are two points
for which the sums of the vectors are equal to a constant quantity, we in-
vestigate what sort of alteration must be performed on the predicate-idea
of this proposition if we change the subject-idea from tha\ of an ellipse
*(
to that of a hyperbola, i.e., instead of the expression y2 = ~ (a - x ) we
2 2
have y2 = a2 + x2 ). Here it turns out that instead of the sum of the
vectors, we must have their difference.
4) When the given idea A does not determine one object we are sup-
posed to discover truths about, but rather a domain of objects, we. do
well even if we merely discover previously unknown truths concernmg
only part of the objects standing under this idea. To do this, however,
we must first form ideas of such parts, i.e., of species subordinate to the
genus A, or even of a single thing standing under the idea A. §361 ~ro­
vides instructions on how to do this. If, for example, we were reqmred
to discover truths belonging to the theory of curved lines, we begin by
attempting to form a concept of curves that have not yet been considered,
e.g., by assuming an arbitrary equation or method of construction fo~ su~h
curves. Then, when we investigate the attributes of these curves, 1t will
appear either that we have discovered a new curve or else a new i:iethod
of construction for an already known curve. If we know several kmds of
objects subordinate to A, or several individual things standing under~'
and wish to consider their attributes more precisely, it is natural to begm 574
with the consideration of those that are simpler, or those whose attributes
may be more easily discovered. For example, after we have formed the
concepts "triangle", "quadrangle", etc., which are subordinate to the con-
cept "polygon", we will begin with the consideration of triangles rather.
than that of quadrangles, as the former are simpler, etc. In the process of
379
 THE ART OF DISCOVERY§. 391.

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1. De sensu veri et falsi. Leipzig 1722, 2nd ed. Leipzig 17 41. TIEFTRUNK, JOHANN HEINRICH

SCHAUMANN, lOHANN CHRISTIAN GOTTLIEB 1. GrundrijJ der Logik. Halle 1801.

1. Elemente der allgemeinen Logik. GieBen 1795 TRACY, ANTOINE LOUIS CLAUDE DESTUTT DE

1. Elemens de ideologie. 5 Vols. Paris 1805-1817.

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 BIBLIOGRAPHY
TROXLER, IGNAZ PAUL VITAL INDEX OF NAMES
1. Naturlehre des menschlichen Erkennens, oder Metaphysik. Aarau 1828.
The numbers refer to the pages of Volume 3 of the 1837 edition of the Wis-
2. Logik. 3 Vols. Stuttgart und Ttibingen 1829-1830. senschaftslehre, indicated in the margins of the present edition.
TWESTEN, AUGUST DETLEV CHRISTIAN
Abel, Jakob Friedrich 53, 63
1. Die Logik. Schleswig 1825. Alefeld, Johann Ludwig 489n
Achilles 490-492
UEBERWASSER, FERDINAND Agricola 377
Alexander the Great 455, 569
1. Anweisungen zum regelmiifiigen Studium der Empirischen Psycholo-
Archimedes 307
gie. Munster 1787.
Aristotle 94, 261, 479, 481-482,
ULRICH, JOHANN AUGUST HEINRICH 485-486
1. Institutiones logicre et metaphysicre. Jena 1792. Bachmann, Carl Friedrich 31
Bacon, Francis 397
WEISS, CHRISTIAN
Baumgarten, Alexander Gottlieb
37,43,471
1. Untersuchungen iiber das Wesen der menschlichen See le. Leipzig 1811.
Beattie, James 63, 167
WOLFF, CHRISTIAN Becher, Johann Joachim 377
Beck, Jakob Sigismund 43
1. Psychologia empirica. Frankfurt and Leipzig 1738.
Beneke, Friedrich Eduard 53, 63,
2. Philosophia rationalis sive Logica. 3rd ed. Frankfurt and Leipzig 17 40. 197
Berger, Christian Gottlieb 377
WYTTENBACH, DANIEL
Berkeley, George 168-169, 220
Bonnet, Charles de 54, 174
1. Prrecepta philosophire logicre. Halle and Berlin 1820.
Born, Friedrich Gottlob 33
Bouterwek, Friedrich 261
Bruno, Giordano 377
Btilffinger, Georg Bernhard 377
Caesar, Gains Julius 94
Calker, Friedrich 77, 223
Campanella, Tommaso 166
Chrysippus 487
Cicero, Marcus Tullius 71, 94,
494-495
Combe, George 163n
Condillac, Etienne Bonnot de 174
390
Cousin, Victor 382
Creuz, Friedrich Carl Casimir
Freiherr von 37
Crousaz, Jean Pierre de 36, 38,
223
Crusius, Christian August 53, 63,
110-111, 272-273, 352
Cudworth, Ralph 166
Damiron, Jean Philibert 79n, 382
Darius, King of Persia 455
Degerando, Joseph Marie Baron
de 84
Descartes, Rene 30, 37, 98, 166,
220, 349-351
Diodoros Kronos of Megara 484
Empedocles 93
Ennemoser, Joseph 233
Esser, Wilhelm 31
Eubulides of Miletus 487
Euclid 245, 467, 477
Euler, Leonhard 77, 185
Evathlus 488-490
Fermat, Pierre de 574
Fichte, Johann Gottlieb 15n, 111
Fries, Jakob Friedrich 34-35, 53,
65, 111, 117, 204, 219, 228,
257,270,282,291-292,352,
462
Gassendi, Pierre 100, 166
Gengler, Adam 209
Gerard, Alexander 63
391
 INDEX OF NAMES
Gerlach, Gottlob Wilhelm 33, 43,
223
GeBner, Johann Anton Wilhelm
100, 247, 381
Hartley, David 377
Hegel, Georg Wilhelm Friedrich 6,
36, 75n
Heraclitus 339
Herbart, Johann Friedrich 6, 8, 53,
97, 101-103, 135, 177
Hermes, Georg 292, 382-383
Herod 72
Hillebrand, Joseph 33
Hobbes, Thomas 77, 100, 166
Hoffbauer, Johann Christoph 63,
78, 80, 272-273
Hollmann, Samuel Christian 31,
351
Horace 94
Hume, David 63, 167
Jakob, Ludwig Heinrich 34, 38,
62-63, 76-77, 223,352, 519
Jesus of Nazareth 25, 309
Kant, Immanuel 24-25, 25n, 34-
35, 37, 64-65, 134-135, 166,
168, 178, 180-182, 185-187,
194-195, 203-204, 209-210,
221-222, 239-240, 243-244,
246, 249-252, 256-257, 261,
270-271, 281, 289-290, 382,
471
Kalmar, Georg 377
Kiesewetter, Johann Gottfried Carl
Christian 34, 36, 62-63, 76-
77, 94-96, 203, 205, 274,
281, 290,462,469
Kircher, Athanasius 377
392
Klein, Georg Michael 220
Koriskos 485-486, 490
Krug, Wilhelm Traugott 34, 43-
45, 66, 94, 110, 257, 282,
290, 389,462,466,471,552
Kuhlmann, Quirinus 377
Lambett, Johann Heinrich 31, 367,
377,428
Leibniz, Gottfried Wilhelm 31, 37,
43, 53, 64, 97, 99, 166, 168,
170, 273, 377
Locke, John 31, 37, 99-100, 166-
168, 220
Lull, Raymond 377
MaaB, Johann Gebhard Ehrenreich
43, 63, 77, 100, 204, 270,
282,428
Malebranche, Nicolas 62, 220,
351
Marheineke, Philipp Konrad 292
Mayer, Joseph Ernst 18
Mehmel, Gottlieb Ernst August 35
Meier, Georg Friedrich 377
Menedemus 482
Metz, Andreas 31, 43, 77, 223
Molyneux, William 170
Newton, Isaac 570
Ntisslein, Franz Anton 35
Oswald, James 167
Parmenides 165, 219
Philetas of Cos 487
Platner, Ernst 18, 34, 37, 43, 53,
62-63, 100, 195
Plato 24, 94, 166
Ploucquet, Gottfried 377
Protagoras 488-489
INDEX OF NAMES
Raphael522 Solbrig, David 377
Reid, Thomas 167 Stiedenroth, Ernst 134
Reimarus, Hermann Samuel 43,
204,471 Tetens, Johann Nicolas 37, 133,
Reinhold, Carl Leonhard 79 171, 173-174
Reinhold, Ernst Christian Gottlieb Tieftrunk, Johann Heinrich 168,
35, 79,97, 197,227 220
Reusch, Johann Peter 31, 63, 261, Tracy, Antoine Louis Claude
471 Destutt de 174, 175, 177,
Richter, Johann Paul Friedrich 470 220
Ritter, Heinrich 34, 209, 224 Troxler, Ignaz Paul Vital 198, 228,
Rtidiger, Johann Andreas 351 292
Twesten, August Detlev Christian
Schaumann, Johann Christian 329,462
Gottlieb 34, 43
Schlegel, Friedrich 228 Ueberwasser, Ferdinand 62-63
Schmid, Carl Christian Erhard 38, Ulrich, Johann August Heinrich
18, 100,204,223
43
Schmid, Heinrich Johann Theodor
WeiB, Christian 15n
63,228
Wilkins, John 377
Schultz, Johann 187-193, 195-
Wolff, Christian 15n, 31, 37, 63,
197, 242
261, 270
Schulze, Gottlob Ernst 31, 110,
Wyttenbach, Daniel 31
273,462
Seneca, Lucius Annaeus 479 Xenophanes 165, 219
Sextus Empiricus 483-484
Socrates 89, 454, 483-486 Zeno of Elea 490
393
 INDEX OF SUBJECTS

INDEX OF SUBJECTS authenticity (cont.) binomial theorem 241

grounds for blindness 169
external 522 bodies 46, 50, 54, 148, 150, 152-
The numbers refer to the pages of Volume 3 of the 1837 edition of the Wis- internal 522 154, 157-160, 172, 176,
senschaftslehre, indicated in the margins of the present edition. authority 204, 336 246,247, 297, 298,466
appeal to 478 colour of 165
awakening law of 59 elastic 506
abbreviations 370 antinomies 250, 251, 253, 254 axiom 134, 188, 249 flexible 156
abstraction 87, 103 of pure reason 135 of parallels 249 mutual attraction of 154
abstractum 7, 433 appearance 219 mutual repulsion of 154
acceptance, degree of 113 apperceptions 37 basic truth 133 shape of 165
accident 172 approval 114 bees, hexagonal cells of 308 solid 156
Achilles paradox 490, 491 degree of 113 being brain fibres 54
acid, hydrochloric 252 approximation, methods of 321 absolutely necessary 254
acoustics 97 aptitudes 53 created 333 calculation 202, 296, 327
act arithmetic 242, 243 creating 332 Calvus 495
intentional 535 Art of Discovery 293-575 finite 405, 525, 538, 559 categories 222, 223
rational 291 assent 114 intentions of 538 causal connection 169
action 312, 394, 533 association of ideas 150, 157, 158, infinite 137, 532 causality 253
motive for 534 215,216 omniscient 136 law of 63, 64
activity 7 law of 59, 62, 63, 433 rational 396, 499, 534 through freedom 253
actuality, concept of 403 assumptions sensate 540 causes 167, 229, 526, 527
adherence l 0, 109 false 463 sentient and rational 498 and effects 56, 57, 195, 253,
adulteration 522 hypothetical 331 simple 49, 499 375, 396, 469, 496, 497,
aesthetics 240 tentative 319 thinking 335 529,534
agent, intentions of 539 examination of 321 uncreated 333 complete 124, 149, 497, 505,
aim, of reflection 300 untenable 463 belief 17, 256, 270, 288-292 528,529
algebra 184 astronomy, methods of approxi- and will 290 concomitant 501
allegory 553 mation in 321 foolish 289 determination of 498
alteration 47, 49, 101, 396, 500 attention 353, 354, 384, 385 historical 289 discovery of 497-518, 532
ambiguity, intentional 553 attributes 7, 10, 43, 57, 394, 428, immoral 289 instrumental 501
anatomy, comparative 531 497 in God 289 moral 501
anger 173 common 415-417, 421, 428, moral 289 partial 497, 503, 504, 529
angle 485 practical 257 physical 501
of sight 197 conflicting 406 reasonable 289 principal 501
trisection of 310 exclusive 422, 424 solid 289 proximal 510, 527
animals 157, 247 inner 11, 13, 18, 30, 33, 44 speculative 257 remote 527
whether they have concepts 92 outer 11 theoretical 289 similar 514
answer 300 authenticity 522 wavering 289 uncaused 254

394 395
 INDEX OF SUBJECTS INDEX OF SUBJECTS

certainty 114, 174, 260, 261, 263, cognitive faculties 6, 41, 136, 190, concepts (cont.) confusion of measures 468
264, 270, 272, 275, 280, 208, 228 logical 379 congruency 185
281,383,467,468 limits of 3, 232, 234, 238 lower 185 conscience 351
complete 279 cohesion 519, 520 mixed 101, 237 consciousness 26, 32, 34, 37, 38,
criteria of 381 colours, general concepts of 91 obscure 35, 36 48, 54, 96, 189, 209, 257,
degree of 113 common sense 339, 382 of reflection 222, 223 361
empirical 271 judgements of 337 produced analytically 97 distinct 449
indicators of 380 pronouncements of 336, 338, produced synthetically 97 indirect 35
moral 273 339, 381 pure 88, 90, 91, 99-101, 166, subject of 38
perfect 279, 286 common understanding 339 171, 185, 237, 408, 420, consequence 469, 570
rational 271 common usage 462, 544, 548 499,521,574 construction 182-184
change 7, 8 communication 194, 357, 362, of understanding 222 characteristic 184, 241
concept of 6 368, 373, 376, 555 redundant 408 geometrical 241
external 141 compatibility 451 sensible 185 of concepts 64, 181
inner 53 completeness 37 simple 20, 88, 91, 194, 401, 402 ostensive 241
characteristics 77 comprehension 260-262 origin of 85 symbolic 184, 241
common 94 concepts 6, 21, 22, 24, 66, 88, 159, singular 408 contemplation 237
charity 339 172, 180, 187,227,453,454 subjective 21 content 10
choice, of a rational being 302 a posteriori 101 vivid 61 contingency 111
Christianity 468, 474 a priori 101 concordance 411 continuum 252
circle, squaring the 344 absence of 208 concretum 7, 114, 427, 428, 433, contract 315
clarity 18, 34, 35, 37, 43-45, 353- analysis of 43, 94, 193 572 contradiction 223
356, 361 and images 184 conditions 148, 149, 254, 312, 503 explicit 567
degrees of 36 clear 34-36, 292 conduct tacit 567
logical 35 complex 91, 403 rules governing 294 contrariety 567
psychological 35 construction of 181, 193 confidence 114, 200, 201, 203, contrast, law of 63
classification, exact 446 distinct 43, 110 204, 215, 224, 245, 260, conviction 114, 280-282
clock 440 distinctly thought 110 263, 274, 275, 277, 278, moral 280
cognitions 3, 31, 38, 117, 189, equivalent 572 281, 286, 288, 289, 341, Cornutus 493
207, 230, 231, 233, 258- extensions of 34, 402 342,345,346, 395,459,463 counterexample 472
260, 264, 300 formation of 94 and probability 115, 287 counting 243
empirical 227 general39, 104,406,407 complete 279, 280 court 560
immediate 190, 193, 228 origin of 103 degree of 113, 213, 278, 283- creation 308, 332
mediate 260 higher 185 285, 461 creatures, prehistoric 569
ordinary 259 imaginary 24, 61, 424 ground of 27 5 credibility 568
origin of 171, 225 incorrect 207 levels of 275 crescens ratio 495
scientific 259, 261 innate 99, 100, 166 moral 280, 286 Critical Philosophy 95, 96, 178,
sensible 226 intermediate 441 perfect 279, 286 239, 245-248
cognitive ability 136 lack of 208 confirmation 457, 462 curvature, uniform 570

396 397
 INDEX OF SUBJECTS INDEX OF SUBJECTS

datum 316 doubt200, 212, 351, 352 errors (cont.) experience (cont.)
death 483, 484 Cartesian 349, 350 causes of 215 inner 257
deception 534, 550, 560, 564 grounds for 383 derivative 214 judgements of 115, 131, 134,
decision 291 momentary 353 explanation of 335 140, 279
deducibility 126, 127, 129, 130, doubtfulness 283, 459 formal 210, 221, 222 principles of 168
134, 136, 208, 211, 285, drawings 82 in purely conceptual sciences propositions of 381
287, 329, 342, 451, 452, dreams 296, 385 374 sensory 165
459, 461, 465, 466, 470, durations 483, 484 material 221 experiments 310, 338-340, 505,
471,474,496 infinite sequence of 491 origin of 212, 214, 215, 218, 506,529,575
deduction duty 256, 382, 391, 392, 396 224,263 confirmatory 338
perfect 287 original 214 exploratory 338
rule of 265 effects source of 213 random 338
definitions 36, 75, 97, 186, 193, discovery of 528-533 essence 7 explanation 518
194, 257,548 similar 514 eternity 238 expression 68, 69
geometrical 193 Electra 486 Euler circles 185 pure 72
too wide and too narrow 404 ellipse 572, 573 events 56, 58 extension 403
desiderata 397 empiricism 167 extraordinary 558 concept of 176
desire 137, 175, 198, 536 ends probability of 274 eye 160, 161, 519
determination of objects by ideas and means 524, 525 probable 274
436 God's 525 unusual 556 faculty 8
determinations 177, 407 morally bad 525 evidence 99 of desire 333
determining elements 571 morally good 525 evil 468, 521 of imagination 96
determinism 457 possible 524 examination 201, 319, 344, 346- of intuition 190
5to:(pwtc; 481 real 524 348, 350,352, 379 ofjudgement86, 137,222, 289
difference 242, 417-422, 425 Ennemoser's clairvoyant wife 233 of a given proposition 341 of reflection 23
discovery enumeration 241 of judgements 349, 350 faith 257
and invention 300n Epicureans 219 of one's own judgements 341 fancy, passing 201
chance 306 equality 14 of opinions 351 fantasy 121
disposition 53, 54, 99 equilibrium of floating bodies 307 exclusion 422, 446, 447 fear 386
distance 155, 157, 160, 164, 170, errors 3, 115, 134, 174, 188, 206- exercise in thinking 300, 341, 344, feeling 228, 257, 291
197 210, 213, 214, 216, 217, 347, 379,391, 393 fictions 66
distinctness 18, 37, 43-45 223, 225, 233, 264, 307, existence 10, 497 fidelity 339
aesthetic 45 336, 341,342,347,387,461 actual 406, 407 finitude 213
analytic 45 and attention 215 experience 99, 100, 115, 134, 166, fish, auditory organs of 531
degrees of 42 and haste 223 228, 237, 310, 334, 336, force 48, 142, 278, 332, 497, 499,
intensive and extensive 44 and the senses 219 406, 454-457, 511, 517, 500,513,519,520,524,526
synthetic 45 and the understanding 219 518, 524, 527, 528, 531, God's creative 497
disturbance 101 and will 216, 220 532, 538 forms of inference 472, 474, 476
double vision 164 caused by ambiguity 218 in narrow sense 334, 337 incorrect 473

398 399
 INDEX OF SUBJECTS INDEX OF SUBJECTS

freedom 246, 253, 256, 258 grounds (cont.) ideas 4, 174, 175, 188, 191, 198, ideas (cont.)
as indeterminacy 253, 254 mutually independent 461 207, 229, 248, 320, 353, contradictory 394
future 238 objective 126, 222, 230, 232, 393, 399,400,449,540 contrary 394
258, 259, 262, 281, 282, absence of I 05 coordinated 394
games of chance 272 abstract 19
455,462 derivative 90
ganglial system 199 abstracted 87, 96
of reason 172 differences between 421
general well-being 383
of recognition 232, 267, 270 acquired 91, 98, 99 distinct 34, 40-42, 106, 117,
genus 428
objective 232 analysis of 42, 97 361
geometer
subjective 232 and images 64, 378, 398 distinctness of 71
blind 64
partial 267, 497 and objects 60 duration of 48
paralytic 64
recognition of 229, 261, 352 and signs 217 effects of 51
geometry 170, 171, 187, 240, 243,
subjective 222, 281, 289, 290 and words 60 empirical 96
249
sufficient 149, 290, 291 appearance of 8 equal 12, 13, 15, 59
axioms of 134
trne 258 application of in judgements 31 equivalent 394, 40 I, 402, 404,
God 13, 23, 25, 44, 45, 63,
associated 77, 80, 86, 360, 363, 411, 412, 414, 427, 437,
79, 98, 100, 169, 218, 223,
399,416,427,434,449 448,548
226, 243, 246, 248, 254-
happiness 526, 536 association of 150, 157, 158, exclusive 326, 394, 414, 420,
256, 258, 264, 273, 281,
haste 385 215,216, 322 423,445
291, 340, 375, 391, 404,
heap 494, 495 cessation of 104 exhaustive and mutually exclu-
405, 501, 524, 526, 535,
536,538,551,552,554,557 hearing 164, 196 clarity of 30, 33, 405 sive 414
belief in 289 hearsay 568 clear 25-27, 29, 31, 32, 34, 35, extensions of 33, 394, 401, 404,
hermeneutics 553 37, 39-41, 46, 55, 61, 106, 409,410,419,426,428
concept of 61, 99, 408
existence of 332, 350 Heuristic 295, 331 116, 117, 375, 398 factitious 90
perfection of 468 highest moral law 217, 312, 329 coextensive 427 familiar I 07
grasping 369 history 335 collections of forgotten 53, 106
gravity, law of 154 homeopathy 478 contradictory 414 formation of 90
ground and consequence 56, 57, homogeneity 366 exclusive 414 general 88
127, 130, 230, 231, 240, human beings 13, 281 complementary 448 generic sensory 88
312, 329, 451, 459, 465, human race 540 complete 107 given 90
471,490,495 human understanding 239 complex 19, 20, 22, 28, 39-42, God's 11
recognition of 228 hydrochloric acid 252 44, 85, 87,371, 393,405 grasping of 6
grounds 226, 228-231, 248, 249, hyperbola 573 production of 87, 102 higher 571
254, 267, 290, 328, 332, hypothesis 224, 319, 322, 517- components of 43 human 45
333,405,454, 570 519 compound 90 ideas of 28, 38, 55
complete 497 simpler 518 concordant 410, 413 imaginary 406
correct 258 concrete 19, 406 immediate parts of 41
false 258 ideals 24, 25 confused 41, 44, 106 impossibility of 190
incorrect 258 Ideas 24, 25, 223, 227, 257 content of 33, 34, 41, 117, 394, impossible 189
inner 522 transcendental 25 404, 410 in themselves 5, 8

400 401
 INDEX OF SUBJECTS INDEX OF SUBJECTS

ideas (cont.) ideas (cont.) ideas (cont.) images (cont.)

indistinct 40, 41, 44 of sounds 88 spatial 181 general 66
infinitely complex 94 origin of 90, 96, 101 stimulated 59 poetic 66, 67
innate 91, 98, 99 original 90 stimulating 59 retinal 164
interchangeable 401 overlapping 394, 404, 413, 442, strength of 52 vivid 378
444 subjective 3, 5-107, 110 imagination 54, 65, 66, 121, 182,
intermediate 438, 439, 441
parts of 398 defining 449 187, 194, 561
intuited 398
perfectly distinct 42, 43 definition of 397 empirical 182
intuitions of 29-31, 40, 46, 55,
356,449 predicative 31 equal 14 feeble 216
invented 220 previous presence of 106 matter of 9, 14, 16-18, 31, overactive 216
lack of 105 real 405 108 productive 193
lacking 210 reawakening of 54 objects of 9 pure 182
law of association of 59, 62 recalling 50, 51 simple 39 imagining 54, 62
location of 159 recollection of 53, 55, 106 strength of 17, 18 imitation 82
vividness of 17, 18 immortality 189, 246, 256
logical attributes of 379 redundant 394, 401, 408, 409,
matter of 13, 39, 52, 54, 57, 59, 571 subordinate 412, 435, 442, 446, impact 153, 154
62 renewal of 54, 86 447 impatience 388
renewed 59, 62 superordinate 427, 429, 431 impenetrability 176
mixed 237
mutually exclusive 395, 418, repetition of 54 supersensible 24 impossibility 192, 193
temporal 181 impressions 53, 54, 131, 139, 296,
445,448 retention of 356
narrower 404, 410 revival of 54, 55 thought 5 297
objective 9, 12-14, 16-19, 31, secondary 60, 72, 360, 361, traces of 50, 52-54, 62, 106, inclination 54
39, 67, 96, 108, 400 365,373 119 incompatibility 331, 567
ultimate parts of 42 indeterminism 333, 498
simple 39 harmful 72
objectless 31, 93, 364, 409 seeking out 86 unconscious 34, 37-39 indication 543
objects of 5, 31, 32 unequal 12, 13 indicators 76, 80, 422
sensible 24
objectual 32, 66, 394, 403, 405- sensible general 93 vivid 51, 59, 86, 107, 356 induction 327
407, 409, 41l,437 vividness of 52, 99, 112, 216 method of 333
sequence of 56, 58
obscure 25, 26, 29, 32, 33, 35, signified 67 wider400,403,410 inertia 176
37, 46, 53, 55, 106, 116, similarities between 421 identity 14 force of 102
117, 354, 376, 377 simple 19-21, 41, 42, 44, 84, ignorance 206-210, 212, 215, 220 infallibility 245
obscurity of 30, 33 formal 209 inference, faculty of 123
90, 104, 371, 393, 398, 402,
material 209 inferences 123, 140, 190, 260,
of colours 88 405
ignoratio elenchi 469 317,342,452,459,460,469
of equal width 410 origin of 84
illusion 214, 223 based on analogy 530, 531
of hearing 173 simultaneity of 143
images 61, 65, 66, 107, 165, 185, forms of 461, 472, 474, 476
of light 196 simultaneous 15, 57, 60, 177,
197 incorrect 473
of odours 88 433
single 12, 14 accompanying 61 immediate 135
of propositions 69, 71, 108
singular 406, 407, 432 and concepts 184 invalid 471
of sight 173, 195

402 403
 INDEX OF SUBJECTS INDEX OF SUBJECTS

inferences (cont.) intuition (cont.) judgements 4, 17, 28, 29, 33, 38, judgements (cont.)
modes of 141, 212 pure 188 39, 45, 48, 51, 55, 57, 80, formation of 110
of probability 212, 225 rational 257 85, 87, 108-205, 214, 270, freestanding 201
perfect225, 230,231,258, 279 transcendental 257 274, 278-280, 283, 340- from experience 202
probabilistic 229, 230, 258, intuitions 6, 21-23, 28, 29, 37, 39, 343, 353, 360, 378,449 from obscure premises 201
279,518 40,42,46,47,54,64,66, 77, a posteriori 202 from pure concepts 202
probability of 455 84, 88, 91-96, 98-101, 104- a priori 181, 202 grounds of 123, 462
probable 381, 461, 521, 523, 106, 116, 131, 132, 139, abandonment of 119 hasty 201, 204
529 147-152, 158, 166, 169, about temporal relations 168 immediate 123, 125, 126, 130-
relative 470 171, 172, 175, 179, 181, absent 199 134, 140, 165, 212, 224,
rules of 127-130, 135, 212, 221, 185, 188, 190, 191, 193, analytic 115, 171, 178, 179, 225, 229, 231, 263, 265,
222,470,475 226, 240, 244, 246, 338, 239,240 270, 275, 278, 279, 281,
incorrect 463 359, 398, 420, 428, 431, based on authority 203 342,346,381
sequences of 354, 357, 381, 464 454,455 based on testimony 203 of perception 166, 173, 188,
variable ideas in 476 a priori 181, 188
certain 263, 270 220,227,281
infusoria 516 causes of 179, 180
clear 116, 119 origin of 13 8
inquiries, religious 337 empirical 178, 182, 187, 239 common of mankind 558 probability of 278
inquiry 319, 380, 387 external 85, 88, 104, 146, 172
complex 115 immediate parts of 117
critical 352 human, objects of 89
conceptual 115, 138, 165, 166 indistinct 117
insight 260 internal 85, 146
derivative 168 inferred 123
distinct 260 of colours 150
concluded 123 influence of will on 110
instinct 157, 167, 198, 519 of judgements 119
confidence in 4, 112, 113, 174, intuitional 115, 138, 165, 166
instructions 302 outer 196, 246
380,457 immediate 139
complete 302 pure 22, 90, 181, 182, 185-187,
confused 117 intuitions of 119, 121
correct 302 193, 194, 239-241, 245
constant adherence to 200 lacking 199
intentions 77, 80, 534, 541 sensory 170
constituents of 5 logical attributes of 379
discovery of 540 similar 146
content of 271 matter of 108, 109, 114
God's 536, 541 subjective 21
credible 335 mediated 131, 140, 165, 174,
investigation of 534 temporal reference in 89
deduced 231, 381 258, 275,276, 279, 346
of finite beings 538 traces of 120
intuitive faculty 22 degree of confidence in 113 origin of 168
recognition of 262
intuitiveness 99 degrees of distinctness of 117 mediation of 123-126, 136, 457
interaction 195
invention 224 derived 123, 212 morally certain 280
interpretation 543
distinct 117, 118 obscure 116
verbal 68 joy 173 duration of 112, 118 of common sense 337
intuition 18, 38, 184, 291
judgement 3, 15, 16, 21, 26, 27 empirical origin of 181 of experience 115, 131, 134,
absolute 257 and will 220, 305 equal 112 140, 168,214,230,279
ideal 257
philosophical postponement of examination of 345, 349, 350 origin of 194
in time 243 352 familiar 200 of memory 202
intellectual 257 suspension of 352 forced 201 of other beings 532-534

404 405
 INDEX OF SUBJECTS INDEX OF SUBJECTS

judgements (cont.) judgements (cont.) language, word- 83 m1thematics, mistakes in 245

of perception 131, 134 true 226, 232 law 301 matter 10, 49
immediate 131, 133, 134 origin of 225 formal 282 lifeless 247
pure 173 truth of 4, 258 of action and reaction 29 meaning 67
of probability 214, 224 unequal 112 of association of ideas 433 derivative 74
of sensation universal 179 of nature 253, 254 double 550, 553
pure 173 unmediated 123 of physics 575 higher 553
of temporal relations 141, 144, vivid 278 of simultaneity 216 original 75
194 vividness of 112, 113, 174 legend 568 secret 553
of the crowd 339 voluntary 201 Lewis Carroll's Paradox 128 means
of understanding 220 with sufficient grounds 270 liar 487, 488, 543 actual and alleged 525
origin of 123, 167, 211 judging 79 lie 559 and ends 524, 525
perceptual 229 light suitable 525
kinematics 492 and shadow 197
perfectly distinct 117 measures, confusion of 468
know 486, 487 cause of 499
practical 239 medicine 301
knowledge 27, 38, 115, 189, refraction of 329
previously formed 145, 199 Megatherion 569
190, 206-209, 257, 259- limit, concept of 404
probable 226 memory 50, 51, 53-56, 121, 122,
261, 288-291, 304 line 154
provisional 203 175, 198, 210, 214, 357,
distinct 259, 352 concept of 249
pure 202 376, 385
human 3, 293 curved 155
purely conceptual 132, 140, as source of errors 221
limits of 272, 335 straight 155-157
167,214, 279 faulty 220
immediate 261 locations 142
reawakening of 121 unfaithful 216
limits of 206, 239 logarithms 335
recalling 121, 122 mental organ 148, 161
mathematical 194 logic 3, 5, 36, 115, 239-241, 243,
relation of 25 mental phenomena 101, 143
mediate 261 294,377,452,478,553,558
reliability of 3, 342, 349 metaphysics 239, 248, 250, 497
origin of 166 pure general 240
renewal of 121 method 302
rational 165, 166
repeating 122 rules of 249
usefulness of 391 apagogical 322, 330-332
revival of 121 synthetic propositions in 240
artificial 319
secure 263 language 68, 79, 81, 90 loss 483
backwards 319
simple 115 conventional 83 lying 560, 564
combinatory 318
singular 179 flaws of 377 direct 318, 330-333
spatial 177 metaphorical use of 78 magnitude 157, 160
manner 303 indirect 319, 330
strength of 112, 278 metonymical use of 78
of doing something 302 inductive 330
synthetic 115, 178, 185, 236, of gestures 81, 82
Mars, inhabitants of 233 natural 318
239,240,247, 248,472 of imitation 82
materialism 466 progressive 318, 328, 329
a priori 178, 180, 181, 185 origin of 80, 84
mathematics 239, 240, 244, 248, regressive 328-330, 333
empirical 178 spoken 359
250 synthetic 318
origin of 180, 185 tropical use of 78, 79
universal 377 history of 246 microscope 515
traces of 119-121, 199

406 407
 INDEX OF SUBJECTS
INDEX OF SUBJEC1's

mind 10, 12, 13, 15, 29, 31, 35, objects (cont.) opinions (cont.) phantasm 61
159, 161, 297 extended 252
miracles 375 general 336 phenomena
external 31, 62, 85, 94, 101, others' 335 internal 144
misunderstanding 68
104, 131, 133, 146, 148, opposite, mathematical 508 mental 10, 101, 143
mode of inference 141, 212
151, 158, 159, 166, 169, order simultaneous 144
moderation 315
170, 172, 195, 196, 200, law of 63 series of 145, 146
Molyneux 's problem 170
202, 297, 365, 523 simultaneous 194
moment 483 temporal 141
size of 164
Moon recognition of 142 philosophy, mechanical 49
non-existent 209 physics 239
inhabitants of 237
of reflection 300 law of 575
weight of 237 parabola 570
opposed 56, 58 pure 243
moral law 350 paradox, Lewis Cairnll's 128
outer47, 140, 173, 296 place 56, 58, 196
moral order 198 parallelogram of forces 3 15
intuitions of 50 change of 197
motion
perceptible 246, 365 parallels, axiom of 249
possibility of 490, 491 plane 155
powers of 147 part and whole 55, 186
relative 153 plants 247
purpose of 537 parts Platonists 219
uniform 153
recognition of 261 heterogeneous 252 points 247
motive 394
recognition of character of 261 homogeneous 252, 253 position 160, 164
movement 176, 196, 197, 403,
sensible 23, 24, 246, 247, 255, integral 252 possibility, concept of 402, 403
484,485
358,362,364 simple 253 post hoc ergo propter hoc 469, 524
multitude, infinite 7
signified 67 passing fancy 201 postulate
mutatio controversiae 469
similarities between 421, 428 passions 216, 244, 245, 339 of reason 256
nature 518 supersensible 24, 246, 250, 255, passivity 7 practical 291
law of 253, 254 257 pedantry 389 postulation
necessity 256, 271 unknown 236 perception 31, 37, 134, 166, 246, Kantian method of 382
consciousness of 188, 270 visible 160-161 297, 337, 338, 340, 455, practical 256
non sequitur 465, 467 obligation 497-499, 507,517,523,567 potash 252
non visum ergo non praesens 524 concept of 255 immediate 133, 187, 227, 522, power 8
nothing 399 moral 539 523 limits of a 232
novelty 549 obscurity 34, 46 immediate cause of 499, 500 of objects 147
number 240, 242, 243 degrees of 36 immediate judgements of 131 of judgement 108
numerals, Roman 371 deliberate 551 judgements of 131, 134 practical reason 256, 382
observation 339, 340, 529 visual 197 precepts 302
objective grounds 126, 136 observers 338 perceptual faculty 22 prejudice 201, 203, 204
objects 57 occurrence, unusual 557 pe1petuum mobile 323 premises, ineffable 257
acquaintance with 261 odours, general concepts of 91 persnicketiness 389 presentation, scientific 249, 294
actual 394, 396, 408 opinions 200, 204, 280, 289, 290 persuasion 114, 202, 204, 290 theory of 355
complex 40 erroneous 337 persuasion, self- 203, 204 presentiment 257
differences between 421 examination of 351 petitio principi 463 presuppositions, untenable 463

408 409
 INDEX OF SUBJECTS
INDEX OF SUBJECTS

principle problems 300 proofs (cont.) propositions (cont.)

a priori 222 discovery of suitable 390, 393 geometrical 193 equivalent 450, 452, 467, 485
objective 223 main 310
incorrect 459 exclusive 395
of sufficient reason 226, 227, original 310
indicators of incorrectness of experiential 383
478 preliminary 310 460,471-478 extensions of 571
priority 144 reduction of 311, 314 intermediate propositions in forms of 450, 452
probability 114, 126, 128, 130, procedure 458 generalisation of 571, 572
137, 138, 146, 147, 153, analogical 328 leaps in 4 71 hypothetical 314
213, 215, 224, 263, 265, analytic 324 ideas of 108, 199
matter of 463, 469
266, 270, 271, 274, 275, inductive 327 identical 521, 547
power of conviction of 459, 471
282, 286, 323, 324, 326- methodical 302 premises of 458 inclination for or against 385
328, 337, 343, 347, 348, regressive 324 presuppositions of 458, 459 incompatible 452, 467
380, 383, 390, 391, 451, resolving 324 redundant 4 71 intuitional 115, 226, 457
459, 461, 467, 468, 512, product 242 simple 458 morally certain 268
513, 516-519, 521, 523, production, authentic 520 tenable 459 mutually exclusive 452
541,559,561, 566,567 progression, geometrical 491 that prove too much 474, 475 objective 109, 112
absolute 268, 269, 273, 276, promise-keeping 339 too wide 477 overlapping 452
277, 286 proofs 186, 257, 329, 351, 460- true 459 practical 3 12
and confidence 115, 287 462, 464, 467, 471 unsuccessful 462 probability of 114, 27 6, 277,
complete 268 appropriate 458 untenable 459, 473 283
complex 273 assumptions of 458, 470 properties 11 probable 115, 214, 219, 267
degree of 278, 285 backwards 464 proportion 434-435 proof of 395, 457
dynamic 273 binding 459 propositions 188, 199, 271, 274, purely conceptual 456, 457
grounds of 267 by experience 478 279 reliable 268
kinds of 272 by incomplete induction 467 analysis of 496 self-contradictory 489
known 286 circular 465 analytic 115, 178, 186, 395, simple 115
logical 274 complex 458 450,451,454, 547 subordinate 451, 452, 466, 467
mathematical 273 conclusions of 458 in logic 244 synthetic 115, 183, 241, 395,
objective 267, 272 convincing 459 certain 268 450,451
conect 459 certainty of 276 purely conceptual 240
philosophical 273
efficacious 458 compatible 395, 467 theoretical 312
real 274
examination of 521 complex 115 transcendent 456
recognised 266, 267
false 459 conceptual 115, 226, 289 transcendental 456
relative 268, 273, 277
flaws of 462 contradictory 452, 468 trustworthy 268, 269
simple 273
force of conviction of 462 contrary 452, 468 ~suooµsvoc; 487
subjective 267, 272
form of 463, 469, 470 converses of 572 psychology 62
unknown 286
from experience 458, 469 credibility of 565 purposes 499
unrecognised 266 from pure concepts 458 degree of approval of 113 purposes, God's 557
probability calculus 518 gaps in 471 empirical 202, 289, 454-456 Pythagorean theorem 541

410 411
 INDEX OF SUBJECTS INDEX OF SUBJECTS

qmesitum 316 reflection, speculative 301 scepticism, Cartesian 352 senses (cont.)
qualities, occult 521 refraction of light 329 sceptics 239, 248, 349 inner 191
quantity 240, 242 reguli falsi 321 schemata 61, 64, 66, 182, 183, 185 literal 554
general theory of 241 relations 11, 33, 44 and images 65 multiple 553
questions 177, 300, 305, 307 spatial 142, 148, 151, 152, 154- science 70, 261, 268, 293-294, secret 554
catalogues of 397 157, 170, 177, 511, 513 300 sensibility 22, 168, 176, 190, 222
main 310 knowledge of 169 analytic 241 sensory organs 158
original 310 recognition of 195 empirical 335, 340 sentiment 291
preliminary 310, 314, 315 temporal 142, 177, 511, 513 purely conceptual separation 87
unanswerable 309 judgements of 144 e1rnrs in 374 sequence
quotient 242 reliability 114, 346, 34 7 theoretical 239, 240 infinite 7, 250, 251, 254
religion 467 theory of 293 in time 251
reading 68
natural 474 written presentation of 3 of conditions 254
realisation 261, 262
renewal, law of 59 scientific exposition 4 infinite past 250
reason 111, 168, 190, 223, 226-
representation 37, 47, 175, 247 script, alphabetic 370 temporal 195, 403
228, 257, 333, 336, 337,
exclusive 425 scrupulousness 389 beginning of 255
535, 540
powers of 323 seeming 163 shape 157
human 250
reproduction 198 self 38, 173 sight 155-157, 160, 162, 196
infallibility of 339
resistance 17 5, 17 6, 196 idea of 176 angle of 197
postulate of 256
resolution 254, 333, 527, 538, 539 self-consciousness 188-191 signification 67
practical 256, 382
result, accidental 542 pure 37 derivative and original 70
pure, antinomies of 135
retina 160-162 self-deception 216 signs 67, 74-77, 81, 82, 84, 165,
receptivity 198, 199
revelation 257, 335 self-persuasion 203, 204, 290, 386 355, 356, 358-365, 367,
recognition 207
Christian 474 self-preservation 101, 198 368, 373-375,464
grounds of 267, 270
recollection 299 divine 218, 375, 391, 464, 468, acts of 102 ambiguous 70, 217, 374
power of 122 554, 557 sensation 173-17 5 and ideas 372
reduction to absurdity 322 indicators of 558 generic ideas of 88 and mathematics 372
reflection 3, 98, 228, 295-297, risk, magnitude of 269 sensations 150, 152, 156, J60, and thinking 79, 80
306, 307, 310, 334-336, Roman numerals 371 171, 191, 197, 198, 229, as cause of error 217
347, 352-354, 358, 375, round square, idea of 9 466, 540 audible 69, 369-372
378, 383-386, 388, 390, rules 302 location of 159 benefits of 357
392, 397,428,449,453 governing conduct 294 tactile 156 complex 70, 78
aim of 300 of inference 127-130, 135, 212, sense illusions 223 contingent 68, 77
concepts of 222, 223 221,222,463,470,475 senses 67, 260 conventional 68, 77, 78
in search of truth 299, 302, 305, ofthought282,289,290 borrowed 71 direct 73
340 rumour 568 common 339 distinctness of 71
object of 300 extended 71 n figurative use of 72
pure 297-300, 320, 334, 355, sadness 173 higher 554 for our own reflection 367
437 saltpetre 252 improper 71 for simple ideas 366, 371

412 413
 INDEX OF SUBJECTS INDEX OF SUBJECTS

signs (cont.) solid 157 speaking 67 surmise 280, 282

imagining 359 concept of 249 to oneself 7 4 s_vllogismus crocodilinus 490
impure 72 solidity 152, 176 speech syllogistic, rules of 240
in metaphysics 242 solution 300 God's 552 symbols 75
incomprehensible 71 something 32, 426 interpretation of 551, 554 in mathematics 242
indeterminate 70 somnambulism 198 sphere 155, 252 used in logic 185
indirect 73 sophisma non causae ut causae spiral, logarithmic 569, 570 used in metaphysics 185
interpretation of 68, 362, 542- 469 spontaneity 198, 199 synthesis 85, 183
555 sophisma pig rum 492 squaring the circle 344 successive 250, 251
invention of 367 sophisms 479 state lOn o0v0rnv:;, fallacy 479
meanings of 262, 369 sorites 186, 187 subordination 439
metaphorical use of 72, 375 sorites inexplicabilis 494 substances 10, 11, 23, 45, 47, 49, tabula rasa 99
metonymic use of 72 soul 6, 17, 20-23, 25, 30, 35, 37, 172,251,255,456,497 taste 164
natural 68, 77, 78, 544 39, 47-54, 57-60, 64, 80, collections of 23, 46, 172 tautology 236, 547
proper signification of 71 86, 87, 93, 95, 98-101, 104, infinite 255 telescope, achromatic 77
purity of 360, 366 105, 109, 110, 118, 119, concept of 171 temporal relations 177
similar 217 122, 139, 140, 171, 189, finite 7, 46, 48, 172, 324, 487 temporal sequences, internal 142
simple 544 191, 197, 198, 213, 220, collections of 246 testimony 203-205, 257, 335, 456,
single 69, 78 246, 247, 255, 297, 320, inner changes in 49 555,558,559, 565,568
symbolic use of 72 353, 354, 383, 454, 455, levels of existence of 323 appeal to 478
systems of 543 523, 540 material 93 credibility of 559
flaws of 377 immortality of 258, 317, 350, neighbouring 247 divine 554
thinking with 376 391 qualities of 7 God's 556
universally accepted 68 pre-sensory 198 simple 6, 247, 248, 255, 318 mediate 562
use of 367 simplicity of 93, 102, 103 subsumption theology 558
vacillating 70 sound, propagation of 506 adequate 436 theory of science 293
visible 69 sounds 83, 84, 362 exact 436, 445 things
written 357, 370-372 general concepts of 91 succession, law of 63, 64 actual 10, 100
similarity 56, 415, 417, 421, 428, space 95, 172, 192, 193, 195, 196, sufficient reason, principle of 226, existing 428
531,571 239,242, 243, 247, 251 227,478 homogeneous 333
between sign and object 365 concept of 249 sum 242, 421 in themselves 472
law of 63 origin of 177 concept of 186 things, supersensible 222
simplicity 366 empty 177 sun, eclipses of 501 thinking and signs 79, 80
simultaneity 195, 427 idea of 197 surface 176 this 22
law of 61-63, 92, 216 intuition of 241, 242 concept of 249 thought, rules of 282, 289, 290
relations of 142 properties of 171 curved 155 thoughts 79, 466
sleep 37 spatial relations 148, 151, 152, cylindrical 156 and symbols 74
smell 164 154-157, 170, 177 plane 155, 156 communication of 368
social intercourse 90 recognition of 195 spherical 156, 253 preservation of 361, 362, 364

414 415
 INDEX OF SUBJECTS INDEX OF SUBJECTS

time 95, 239, 242, 247 truth (cont.) vision 160-164 witnesses 560, 562
concept of 250 objective 135 double 164 credibility of 559-569
origin of 177 of experience 281 vividness 37, 44, 45, 49, 50, 321, honest 564
directions in 251 of reason 227 353, 360,361 sincere 564
intuition of 241, 242 power of 337 volition 302 veracious 564
measurement of 142 practical 312 words20,70,77, 362, 370
Topic 295 purely conceptual 99, 190, 209, way 303 proper signification of 79
touch 152, 154, 156, 157, 161, 230, 237, 258, 271, 335, of doing something 302 single 70
164, 169, 196, 197 403, 406, 453, 454, 478, of life 303 work
sense of 170 520,575 which 333 spurious 520, 522
traces 198 discovery of 497 whole and part 55, 186 adulterated 520
of judgements 199 recognition of 229, 230, 294, will 137, 147, 148, 150, 175, 176, world 25, 254, 255
tradition, adherence to 389 300, 300n, 307, 385, 391 253, 254, 296, 297, 525- age of 308
transparency 509 utility of 390 527, 534 concept of 111
treatise 293 recognition of grounds of 260 free act of 498 external 174, 194
trisection of the angle 310 semblance of 222 God's 537, 542, 558 consciousness of 385
tropical mode of speech 72 sense for 259 human 333 material 168
trustworthiness 273 similar 314 wish 137, 144, 175, 291, 385 sensible 255
degrees of 269 speculative 301
truth 3, 206, 209, 222, 304 synthetic 240
basic 133, 230, 402, 495
cause of recognition of 231
criteria of 381
u &vna-cpscp6Jv 488
unconscious 257
discovery of 293, 300, 329, 330,
understanding 22, 68, 190, 222,
341, 344, 357,397,569
226-228, 262, 369
empirical 271, 453
common 339
established 518
pure concepts of 64
ground of 496
units 243
formal 209
unity 403
given 316
universe 223
grounds of 228, 231, 288, 396,
453
in itself 9 vacillation 201
independent 402 vector 573
innate 166 Venus, inhabitants of 233
intuitional 209 veracity 567
material 209 verb 484
metaphysical 249 virtue 350
moral 391 vis viva 245

416 417