More illusive are a couple of passages in his later writings, i.e.

in his _Principia Philosophiae_ (i. 32), published three years after

the Meditations, and in a work also written three years later: Notae

in Programma quoddam, sub finem Anni 1647 in Belgio editum, cum

hoc Titulo: Explicatio mentis humanae sive animae rationalis, ubi

explicatur quid sit, et quid esse possit.” Particularly might the

passage in the _Principles_ lead to the opinion that Descartes must

have changed his view, and it is astonishing that Windelband has not

appealed to this passage rather than to that in the Meditations. We

read here:--Ordines _modi cognitandi_ quos in nobis experimur, _ad

duos generales_ referri possunt; quorum unus est, _perceptio sive

operatio intellectus_; alius vero _volitio sive operatio voluntatis_.

Nam sentire, imaginari, et pure intellegere, sunt tantum diversi modi

percipiendi; _ut et cupere, aversari, affirmare, negare, dubitare,

sunt diversi modi volendi_.

At first sight this passage appears to be so clearly in contradiction

to the one in the third Meditation that, as we have said, it is

scarcely possible to avoid the supposition that Descartes had meantime

rejected his thesis as to the three fundamental classes of psychical

phenomena, so shunning Scylla only to plunge into Charybdis; avoiding

the old mistake of confusing the judgment with the idea (Vorstellung),

he would now seem to confound it with the will. But a more attentive

examination of all the circumstances will suffice to exonerate

Descartes from such a charge, and this on the following grounds: (1)

There is not the slightest sign that Descartes was ever conscious of

having become untrue to the view expressed in the Meditations. (2)

Further, in the year 1647 (three years after the publication of the

Meditations and shortly before writing the Notae to his Programma) the

Meditations appeared in a translation revised by Descartes himself,

where, remarkably enough, not the slightest alteration is to be

found in the decisive passage in the third Meditation. “Entre mes

pensées,” it reads, “quelques unes sont commes les images des choses,

et c’est à celles-là scules que convient proprement le nom d’idée....

D’autres, outre cela ont quelques autres formes; ... et de ce genre de

pensées _les unes sont appelées volontés ou affections, et les autres

jugements_.” (3) In the _Principles_ itself he says directly after

(i. No. 42) that all our errors depend upon our will (a voluntate

pendere); but so far is he from regarding the “error” as an act of

volition, that he says there is no one who errs voluntarily (nemo est

qui velit falli). Still clearer is it that he does not regard the

judgment like the desires and dislikes as inner activities of the will

itself, but only as a product of the will, since he at once adds:

sed longe aliud est velle falli quam velle assentiri iis, in quibus

contingit errorem reperiri,” etc. He does not say of the will that it

desires, affirms, assents, but that it wills the assent; so also, not

that it _is_ true but that it desires the truth (veritatis assequendae

cupiditas ... _efficit_, ut ... judicium ferant).

As to Descartes’ real view, therefore, there can be no doubt; his

doctrine has not in this respect suffered the slightest change.

It only remains, therefore, to come to an understanding of his

obviously variable modes of expression, and this is, I believe,

solved incontrovertibly in the following manner. Descartes, while

regarding will and judgment as two classes differing fundamentally,

none the less finds that in contradistinction to the first fundamental

class--that of ideas--these have something in common. In the third

Meditation he designates (cf. the above passage) as the common element

the fact that although essentially based upon an idea, in both alike

there is contained a further special form. In the fourth Meditation

a further common character appears, i.e. that the will decides

concerning them; not only can it determine and suspend its own acts,

but also those of the judgment. It is this common character which he

was bound to regard as especially, indeed all important, in the first

part of the _Principles_, xxix.-xlii. Accordingly, he classes them, in

opposition to the ideas (which he calls operationes intellectus) under

the term operationes voluntatis. In the Notae to the Programma he

calls them distinctly in the same sense, “determinationes voluntatis.”

“Ego enim, cum viderem, praeter perceptionem, quae praerequiritur

ut judicemus, opus esse affirmatione vel negatione ad formam

judicii constituendam, _nobisque saepe esse liberum ut cohibeamus

assensionem_, etiamsi rem percipiamus, ipsum actum judicandi, qui non

nisi in assensu, hoc est in affirmatione vel negatione consistit, non

retuli ad perceptionem intellectus sed ad determinationem voluntatis.”

He does not even hesitate in the _Principles_ to term both these two

classes of _modi cogitandi_, “_modi volendi_” the context seeming

sufficiently to indicate that he means only to express thereby the

fact that they fall within the domain of the will.

In further support of this explanation we may compare the scholastic

terminology into which Descartes as a young man was initiated. It was

customary to denote under the term _actus voluntatis_ not merely the

movement of the will itself but also the act performed in obedience

to the will. In accordance with this custom, the _actus voluntatis_

fell into two classes; the _actus elicitus voluntatis_ and the _actus

imperatus voluntatis_. In a similar manner Descartes groups the class

which, according to him, was only possible as an _actus imperatus_ of

the will along with his _actus elicitus_. There is here, therefore, no

question of a common fundamental character of the intentional relation.

Clear as all this is to those who carefully attach due weight to

the various moments, it would yet appear that Spinoza (probably

misled rather by the passage in the _Principles_ than by that cited

by Windelband), anticipates Windelband in this misunderstanding of

the Cartesian doctrine. In his _Ethics_, ii. prop. 49, he actually,

and in the most real sense, regards the _affirmatio_ and _negatio_

as “_volitiones mentis_,” and by a further confusion, comes finally

to obliterate the distinction between the two classes _ideae_ and

_voluntates_. “_Voluntas et intellectus unum et idem sunt_” his thesis

now reads, so overthrowing not only the three-fold classification of

Descartes, but also the old Aristotelian dual classification. Spinoza

has here, as usual, done nothing else than corrupt the teaching of his

great master.

[22] (_p. 13_). I do not mean to say that the classification is,

universally recognized to-day. It would not even be possible to regard

as certain the Principle of Contradiction if in order to do so we

were to await universal assent. In the present instance it is not

difficult to understand that old, deeply-rooted prejudices cannot all

at once be banished. But that even under such circumstances it has not

been possible to urge a single important objection affords the best

confirmation of our doctrine.

Some, as for instance, Windelband--while giving up the attempt at

including judgment and idea (Vorstellung) in _one_ fundamental class,

on the other hand believe it possible to subsume judgment under

feeling, thus falling back into the error which Hume committed earlier

in his inquiry into the nature of belief. According to these writers,

to affirm implies an act of approval, an appreciation on the part of

the feelings, while denial is an act of disapproval, a feeling of

repugnance.

Despite a certain analogy the confusion is hard to understand. There

are people who recognize both the goodness of God and the wickedness

of the devil, the being of Ormuzd and the being of Ahriman, with an

equal degree of conviction, and yet, while prizing the nature of the

one above all else, they feel themselves absolutely repelled by that

of the other. Since we love knowledge and hate error it is, of course,

proper that those _judgments_ we hold to be right (and this is true

of all those judgments which we ourselves make) are for this very

reason dear to us, i.e. we estimate them in some way or other through

feeling. But who on this account would be misled into regarding the

judgments themselves which are loved as acts of loving?. The confusion

would be almost as gross as if we should fail to distinguish wife and

child, money and possessions, from the activity which is directed

towards these, inasmuch they are the objects of affection. Cf. also

what has been said (note 21) with regard to Windelband, where,

misunderstanding Descartes, he ascribes to him the same teaching;

further, note 26 (on the unity of the idea of the good) as well as

what is urged by Sigwart in the note (in part much to the point) on

Windelband (_Logic_, vol. i. chap. ii. p. 156 seq.). To those who,

despite all that has been said, still wish further arguments for the

distinction between the second and third fundamental classes, I may,

perhaps, be allowed to refer them, by anticipation, to my _Descriptive

Psychology_, which I have alluded to in the preface as an almost

completed work, and which will appear if not as a continuation, yet

still as a further development of my _Psychology from the Empirical

Standpoint_.

As against Windelband, I here add the following observations:

1. It is false and a serious oversight, as he himself will be

convinced on reading again in my _Psychology_, vol. i. p. 262, when

he (p. 172) makes me assert, and that too as a quotation from my own

work, that “love and hate” is not an appropriate term for the third

fundamental class.

2. It is false, and a quite unjustifiable supposition when (p. 178)

he ascribes to me the opinion that the classification of judgments

according to quality is the only essential classification belonging

to the act of judgment itself. I believe exactly the contrary. I

regard, for example (of course in opposition to Windelband), the

distinction between assertorical and apodictic judgments (cf. here

note 27, p. 83), as also the distinction between self-evident and

blind judgments as belonging and highly essential, to the act of

judgment itself. Other differences, again, especially the distinction

between simple and compound acts of judgment, I might mention. For

it is not every compound judgment that can be resolved into quite

simple elements, and something similar takes place also in the case

of certain notions, a fact known to Aristotle. What is red?--Red

colour. What is colour?--The quality of colour. The difference, it is

seen, contains in both cases the notion of the genus. The separating

of the one logical element from the other is only possible from the

one side. A similar one-sided capacity to separate appears also in

certain compound judgments. J. S. Mill is, therefore, quite wrong when

he (_Deductive and Inductive Logic_, vol. i. chap. iv. section 3),

regards as ridiculous the old classification of judgments into simple

and compound, and thinks that the procedure in such a case is exactly

as if one should wish to divide horses into single horses and teams

of horses; otherwise the same argument would hold good against the

classification of conceptions into simple and compound.

3. It is false, though an error which finds almost universal

acceptance, and one from which I myself at the time of writing the

first volume of my _Psychology_ was not yet free, that the so-called

degree of conviction consists in a degree of intensity of the

judgment which can be brought into analogy with the intensity of

pleasure and pain. Had Windelband charged me with _this_ error I

would have acknowledged the complete justice of the charge. Instead

of this he finds fault with me because I recognize intensity with

regard to the judgment, only in a sense analogous, and not identical

to that in the case of feeling, and because I assert the impossibility

of comparing in respect of magnitude, the supposed intensity of the

belief and the real intensity of feeling. Here we have one of the

results of his improved theory of judgment!

If the degree of conviction of my belief that 2 + 1 = 3 were one of

intensity how powerful would this be! And if the said belief were to

be identified, as by Windelband (p. 186), with feeling, not merely

regarded as analogous to feeling, how destructive to our nervous

system would the violence of such a shock to the feelings prove! Every

physician would be compelled to warn the public against the study

of mathematics as calculated to destroy health. (Cf. with regard to

this so-called degree of conviction the view of Henry Newman in his

interesting work: _An Essay in Aid of a Grammar of Assent_--a work

scarcely noticed in Germany.)

4. When Windelband (p. 183) wonders how I can regard the word “is” in

such propositions as “God is,” “A man is” (ein Mensch ist), “A lack

is” (ein Mangel ist), “A possibility is,” “A truth is,” (i.e. There is

a truth), etc., as having the same meaning and finds it extraordinary

(184, note 1) in the author of _Von der mannigfachen Bedeutung des

Seienden nach Aristoteles_ that he should fail to recognize the

manifold significance of “to be,” I can only reply that he who in

this view does not perceive the simple consequence of my theory of

the judgment can hardly have understood this doctrine. With regard to

Aristotle it never occurs to him, while dividing the “ὄν” in the sense

of reality into various categories, and into an “ ὂν ὲνεργεία and ὂν

δυνάμει”, to do the same with the “ἔστιν” transforming what is the

expression of an idea into that of a judgment and the “ὂν ὡς ἀληθές”

as he calls it. This could only be done by those who, like Herbart

and many others after him, did not know how to hold apart the notion

of being in the sense of absolute position and being in the sense of

reality (cf. the following note).

5. I have just said that there exist simple and compound judgments,

and that many a compound judgment is not, without a residue,

resolvable into simple judgments. Special attention must be paid to

this in seeking to convert judgments otherwise expressed into the

existential form. It is self-evident that only simple judgments, i.e.

such as are, strictly speaking, without parts, are so convertible. I

may therefore be excused for not thinking it necessary to emphasize

this expressly in my _Psychology_. If this restriction hold good

universally it is, of course, valid also of the categorical form.

In the propositions categorical in form, which the formal logicians

have denoted by the signs A.E.I. and O. they wish to express strictly

simple judgments. These are therefore one and all convertible into

the existential form (cf. my _Psychology_, vol. i. p. 283). The same,

however, will not hold good when propositions categorical in form

contain in consequence of an ambiguity of expression (cf. p. 120, note

to Appendix) a plurality of judgments. In such a case the existential

form may certainly be the expression of a simple judgment equivalent

to the compound one, but cannot be the expression of the judgment

itself.

This is a point which Windelband ought to have considered in examining

(p. 184) the proposition: “The rose is a flower” with respect to its

convertibility into an existential proposition. He is quite right

in protesting against its conversion into the proposition: “There

is no rose which is not a flower,” but he is not equally right in

ascribing this conversion to me. Neither in the passage cited by him

nor elsewhere have I made such a conversion, and I consider it just as

false as that attempted by Windelband and all such as may be attempted

by anybody else. The judgment here expressed in the proposition is

made up of two judgments of which one is the recognition of the

subject (whether it be that thereby is meant “rose” in the ordinary

sense, or “what is called rose,” “what is understood by rose”), and

this, as we have just said, is not always the case where a proposition

is given of the form: All A is B.

Unfortunately Land also has overlooked this, the only one among

my critics who has succeeded in comprehending, in their necessary

connection with the principle, what Windelband has termed the

“mysterious” hints which I have thrown out towards the reform of

elementary logic, and in deducing them correctly from it. (Cf. Land,

“On a supposed improvement in Formal Logic” in the papers of the _Kgl.

Niederländischen Akademie der Wissenschaften_, 1876.)

I conclude with a curiosity recently furnished by Steinthal in his

_Zeitschrift für Völkerpsychologie_ (chap. xviii. p. 175). I there

read with astonishment: “Brentano’s confusion in completely severing

judgments from idea and thoughts (!) and grouping the judgments as

acts of recognition or rejection, with love and hate (!!) is instantly

removed if such (?) a judgment, as an aesthetic judgment is termed

“Beurteilen” (!). Probably Steinthal has never once glanced into my

_Psychology_, and has only read Windelband’s statement concerning it;

this, however, so hastily that I hope he will not be ungrateful at my

sending his lines to Windelband for correction.

[23] (_p. 14_). Miklosich, _Subjectlose Sätze_, second edition,

Vienna, 1883.

In order to make the reader familiar with the contents of this

valuable little book a notice written at the time for the _Vienna

Evening Post_ may prove useful. Through an oversight it was printed

as a feuilleton in the Vienna newspaper. As no one certainly would

look for it there, I will include it here by way of an appendix.

Meantime, Sigwart’s monograph, _The Impersonalia_ has appeared, in

which he opposes Miklosich. Marty has submitted this, as well as

(shortly before) the corresponding section in Sigwart’s _Logic_ to a

telling criticism in the _Vierteljahrsschrift für wissenschaftliche

Philosopie_, with regard to which criticism Sigwart, though without

any reasonable ground, has shown himself highly indignant. “Il se

fache,” the French say, “donc il a tort.” That Sigwart’s theory in

its essential points has not succeeded, even Steinthal really allows,

though in his _Zeitschrift_ (chap. xviii. p. 172 seq.) he burns thick

clouds of incense to the writer of the monograph, and even in his

preface to the fourth edition of his _Origin of Language_ applauds

a form of conduct which every true friend of that deserving man

(Sigwart) must regret. After the high praise awarded to him at the

outset, one feels somewhat disappointed finally by the criticism.

Steinthal rejects (pp. 177-180) Sigwart’s theory on its grammatical

side. There would only remain therefore as really successful Sigwart’s

psychological theory. But the psychological portion is not that

concerning which Steinthal’s estimate is authoritative; for in that

case, one would be bound to take seriously the following remark: “In

the proposition: “Da bückt sich’s hinunter mit liebendem Blick” (a

line from Schiller’s _Diver_), it is obvious that everybody must think

of the king’s daughter, but it is not she which stands before me but

a subjectless “sich hinunter-bücken,” and now I have all the more

fellow-feeling for her. According to my (Steinthal’s) psychology, I

should say the idea of the king’s daughter “fluctuates” (schwingt) but

does not enter into consciousness.” This calls for something more than

the old saying: _Sapienti sat_.

I

The psychological theory of Sigwart shows itself in all its weakness

when he seeks to give an account of the notion of “_existence_.” It

has been already recognized by Aristotle, that this notion is gained

by reflection upon the affirmative judgment. But Sigwart, like most

modern logicians, neglects to make use of this hint. Instead of saying

that to the existent belongs everything of which the affirmative

judgment is true, he becomes repeatedly, and once more in the second

edition of his logic (pp. 88-95) involved in diffuse discussions upon

the notion of being and upon existential propositions, which cannot

in any way conduce to clearness, seeing that they move in false

directions.

“To be,” according to Sigwart, expresses a relation (pp. 88, 95);

if it be asked: What kind of a relation? the answer would, at first

sight (92), appear to be, a relation to me as thinking. But no; the

existential proposition asserts just this: “that the existing also

exists, apart from its relation to me and to another thinking being.”

It cannot, therefore, be “a relation to me as thinking.” But what

other relation can be meant? Not until p. 94 is this brought out more

clearly. The relation ought to mean (of course he adds “zunächst”,

provisionally) the agreement (“identity” ib.) of the thing represented

with a possible impression (“einem Wahrnehmbaren” ib. “something which

may be perceived by me,” ib. p. 90).

Now it will be immediately recognized that this notion of existence is

too narrow; for it might very well be asserted that much exists which

it is not possible to perceive, e.g. a past and a future, an empty

space, and any sort of deficiency, a possibility or impossibility,

etc., etc. It is therefore not surprising that Sigwart himself seeks

to widen the notion. But he does this in a manner which I find it

difficult to understand. At first sight he appears to say in order

that something may exist it is not necessary that it can be perceived

by me; it is enough if it can be perceived by anybody. Or what else

can be meant when Sigwart, after what has just been said, that

existence was the agreement of the thing represented with a possible

impression, thus continues: “That which exists stands not merely _in

this relation_ to me but to all other existing beings?” It cannot

surely mean that Sigwart is inclined to ascribe to every existing

being the capacity to receive every impression. It may be he only

wishes to say that everything which exists stands to every other

existing being in the relation of existence, and then it might be

concluded from what immediately follows that this rather meaningless

definition is intended to express that existence is the capacity to

act or to be acted upon. (“What exists ... stands in causal relations

to the rest of the world”; similar also is p. 91, note: the existent

is something which “can exercise effects upon me and others.”)

Finally, however, there is some ground for thinking Sigwart would

say: what exists is that which can be perceived or can be inferred

as perceivable, for he adds: “hence (on account of this causal

relation) from what is _perceivable_ also an existence which is merely

_inferred_ may be asserted.”

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

recognize.

For (1) To “infer” the existence of something does not mean so much as

“to infer that it is capable of being perceived.” If, for example, the

existence of atoms and of empty spaces could be assured by inference,

we should still be very far from proving their perceptibility either

to ourselves or to some other being. If any one were to conclude the

existence of God while giving up the attempt “to give vividness” to

the thought by anthropomorphic means, he would not on this account

believe that God must be perceptible to one of his creatures or even

that he is the object of his own perception.

2. From this point of view it would be absurd for any one to say: “I

am convinced that there is much the existence of which can neither be

perceived at any time or even inferred by anybody.” For that would

mean: “I am convinced that much can be perceived or can be inferred

to be capable of perception which yet can never be perceived or

inferred.” Who does not recognize here how far Sigwart has strayed

from the true notion of existence!

3. Should Sigwart wish in this passage to widen the notion of

existence to such a degree as to think that existence is that which

can either be perceived or inferred from some perceivable object, or

again, stands in some sort of causal relation to what is perceivable,

it might be replied--if indeed such a monstrous notion of existence

still require refutation--that even this notion is still too narrow.

If, for example, I say: It may be that an empty space exists but

this can never with certainty be known by any one, I thereby confess

that existence may perhaps belong to empty space; but I deny most

definitely that it is perceptible, or that it is to be inferred from

that which is perceptible. In regard to relations of cause and effect

on the other hand, it is of course impossible that empty space (which

is certainly no thing) can stand in such a relation to anything

perceivable. We should thus once again arrive at an absurd meaning in

interpretation of an assertion in no way absurd.

The Origin of the Knowledge of Right and Wrong · 第 4 / 14 段